Four Golden Lines
by Kefalion
Summary: Soulmark AU. Harry/Loki. The first time he came to Earth, Loki discovered that his soulmate was on that planet. He didn't have time for it then, but things are different now. He's not very interested in a mortal, but he needs to know more. Meeting his soulmate doesn't go anything like how he imagined it would. Ragnarok spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

I've read so many great short stories about soulmates/soulmarks that I decided that I wanted to write a few of my own. To make that happen I've accepted a few requests, asking who out there in the fandom jungle is meant to be with Harry Potter.

Fandom: MCU  
Character: Loki  
Year (when on the timeline do they meet?): 2013 (post the Dark World pre the Winter Soldier)  
Adjective/adverb: Insanely  
Noun: Fountain  
Requested by: Kefalion or well, I, the author came up with this myself to get this series started, though now that's redundant as I've already posted one story.

—WARNING: spoilers for Thor Ragnarok.

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 **Four Golden Lines**

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 **Chapter ONE**  
 _Words: 6 020_

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It had been a thousand years without his mark heating up, a thousand years of waiting and imagining. A thousand years is a long time, even to the Aesir, and the Jotuns, though no longer than expected regarding soulmarks. Some wait far longer than that. Some die still waiting. His parents, no, not his parents, just Odin and Frigga, had been aware of each other but had not sought each other out until one had lived for near three millennia and the other had seen well over two. Proximity did not guarantee a meeting, and independence, individuality, realising oneself while separate were the basis for successful coexistence once two became one.

Loki had been content to wait and dream. The fantasy was more precious to him than the vague prospects of reality. Fantasy was ideal. Reality could never be. Although it was supposed to be all that and more. The soulmate that awaited him was supposed to complement his essence and make him greater than he could hope to be alone. It was said that it was impossible to not love one's soulmate once you knew them. The universe brought people together because they fit like halves making a whole.

However, like Odin and Frigga before him, Loki had wanted to be great on his own first.

It was therefore ironic that it was during his quest for greatness that his mark had awakened. As he'd gone to discourage the fallen Thor, landing in a Midgardian desert, Loki had felt the two golden lines that traversed the inside of his left wrist warm near imperceptibly. He'd ignored it then. It hadn't been the right time. And the thought of a Midgardian as the one connected to his essence had not been any more appealing then than it was now.

He'd felt the mark again when he arrived in front of the Tesseract. It had grown almost hot when he was in Germany, only to diminish as his conquest brought him back to the United States of America. It had blazed briefly before he was brought back to Asgard in chains. His soulmate had tried to find him, had come close, but had been too late. It was just as well. He wouldn't have wanted to appear before his soulmate gagged and shackled.

All of that was in the past. He'd been defeated twice, but now he had won. He had achieved greatness of his own. Odin was lost under a spell, left among the elderly on Earth, harmless and cared for. Thor had renounced the throne and was off playing hero, disinterested in the proceedings of their home. Loki was King, and he'd managed it by playing to his strengths: subtlety, subterfuge, slyness. He had achieved all he had wanted.

In bringing Odin to the retirement home in New York, his mark had warmed once more, reminding him that someone was waiting for him, someone who wanted to meet him. Now was the time to find his soulmate. He had come to accept that he was connected to a mortal, accept it as much as he could. His soulmate was represented by a golden mark. It must mean something good despite the miserable planet his soulmate could be found on. Loki had also had time to think of what else having what was likely a human soulmate meant. Now might be his only chance. A Midgardian's life was short. If he wished for the completion promised by the combination of their essences, he would have to act. And if he wasn't pleased by his soulmate, he could return to Asgard and never think of it again.

He used the warming of the mark as a homing beacon, travelling across the planet, choosing where to go based on the lines heating from just perceivable, to warm, to hot. Scorching was the final stage, not reached until they touched. Europe. Germany. North across the sea to England, and then to the city of London. There he waited.

Standing by a small fountain in an abandoned corner of a park, shielded from the weak autumn sun by tall evergreens, the mark on the inside of his wrist grew hotter until it blazed.

The gravel on the ground crunched, and someone spoke.

"Well. Damn."

Loki turned to see who'd approached him.

It was a man. He was on the taller side, his body slim, and his face narrow. He had dark hair. Ugly glasses hid green eyes. He was dressed in loose-fitting, black clothes. He had two scars on his face that stood out, one on his forehead and one on his cheekbone. The blemishes and questionable sense of fashion aside, the man was not hard on the eyes.

"I figured it would be you, but to actually see it and feel it." The man grabbed his own right wrist, rubbing it with his thumb. There were two lines there, perpendicular to blue veins. Both lines were gleaming like metal. Gold. Just a different shade to the lines on his own wrist. Paler. So, that was what represented him. Gold. It was fitting. The King of Asgard had a golden soulmark.

The man shook his head, his eyes never leaving Loki's, and he continued to speak. "Until a few years ago, I just thought my soulmate hadn't been born or that maybe they'd already died. That would be my luck. But with my mark getting warm and then cold like it did, _when_ it did… Let's just say that quite a few of my friends thought it funny that Thor might be my soulmate. They thought the match perfect."

Loki swallowed around an angry lump in his throat. It appeared nothing in his life could go untainted by Thor.

"But then there was the Convergence two weeks ago," the man continued. "Thor was running around the city and my mark stayed cool. So, that meant that it was probably you. Only I'd never know because according to him, you were dead."

"I'm not," Loki said.

"So I see." The man breathed out through his nose, the rush of air audible. "I can't say I'm too happy about this. There's a reason my friends thought of Thor as perfect for me. I work to protect people. I've been stopping people like you since I was a child."

"People like me?" Loki sneered, not nearly as amused as the last time someone had said something similar to him. He should leave. He should forget that this man existed, this Thor lover. His mark would cool and life would go on. In a few years time, this human would be dead, and he'd never have to think of it again. He had been alone so far. He could live without that changing.

"You've tried to advance yourself at the expense of others. You've killed innocents. I cannot stand for that."

Loki let out a small chuckle, startled by the audacity. "You cannot stand for it? And what will you do? What do you think you can do?"

"I will arrest you."

"You can try." Loki summoned his daggers to his hands, unwilling to let the threat stand even if it were made by an unremarkable mortal with no chance of besting him.

A beam of energy shot out from a stick of wood brandished by the man. Loki's eyes grew large as he dodged it. It was magic.

"What are you?" he asked, sidestepping more energy barrages.

"Not what you thought," said the man. "Not harmless or defenceless."

Loki observed how the man fought. He stayed at a distance, using magic, not moving his body much, feet planted to the ground. Hand to hand combat might mean an advantage. Loki moved closer. He dodged again, and again, never letting the luminous energy touch him. He had to use all of his agility and speed to avoid the magic, but avoid it he did, and he got right up to the man, grabbing his hand before he could twist around or use more magic.

They both groaned, huffing out air. Their soul marks burned at the skin to skin contact. Hot. Too hot. It spread over their entire bodies. They burned. For a second, Loki saw through the man's eyes, saw his own wide-eyed, sweaty face. Then the marks settled into comfortable warmth, a warmth that would remain until one of them was dead.

The fight went on, hand to hand now as Loki had wanted. The man was inexplicably stronger than a normal human. Against his own wishes, against the anger that stemmed from being challenged and having Thor's shadow cast over him once more, Loki found that he enjoyed it. His soulmate wasn't a pathetic, normal human like he'd expected. He was special. He was not tied to someone weak and utterly insignificant. The golden mark should have clued him into that, but learning of his soulmate's Midgardian origin had lead to him drawing unfavourable conclusions. Though they were fighting, enemies for the time being, he was glad that he was fighting someone who could keep up with him if only for a while. Because it wouldn't last much longer. The man was slower than Loki, and he seemed to realise it too.

The man muttered a word, and bright light exploding from his weapon. Loki was blinded. In the moment he needed to shield his eyes, the man pulled a small flask from a pocket and drank its contents. It changed him instantaneously. He moved faster now, able to keep up with Loki's punches and jabs.

The man blocked a hit to the face, evaded a hit towards the neck, accepted a punch to the sternum to buy a strike at Loki's side. The man followed the force of a kick, borrowing its momentum to land a kick of his own. And always, the man was expelling more strange energies, forcing Loki to defend or risk exposure to their effects.

Time to change tactics.

He disengaged.

"Impressive," Loki said, adding an overly breathless quality to his words.

"I thought so." The man's lips twisted in the beginnings of a smirk. Loki didn't remain still as to find out.

"Not impressive enough," he said into the man's ear, pressing up behind him, one dagger at his throat, the other pressing against the hand holding the stick, cutting the skin there, drawing forth a few drops of blood.

Loki had done what he always did. An illusion for distraction, leaving him free to strike from behind.

"You will not be arresting anyone," he said. "We're done here."

"Yeah, no," said the man, and although Loki couldn't see his face, he knew that there was a smirk on it now. "A little help!"

It happened too quickly for Loki to react. There had only been him and the man there, but now, three more people were surrounding them, their arrival accompanied by loud cracks. All of them were carrying weapons of the same sort as the man. Magical energy hit him from three directions, forcing unconsciousness upon him.

 _\- Four Golden Lines -_

Harry twisted around to hold Loki's weight as the stunners made him go limp. The daggers he'd been holding fell from slack hands, landing on the gravel. Harry flicked his wand, leaving Loki floating in the air. Not that carrying him was a problem. Although he was heavier than a normal human, Harry's system was jacked up on strengthening potion, making the burden light. Still, Harry wanted his hands free. He switched his wand to his left hand and inelegantly double tapped it in the air over the cut on his wrist. He would not have his soulmark mangled by a scar.

That healed, he regarded his soulmate's face. It was relaxed and emotionless now. For a being that was something like a thousand years old, Loki looked awfully young, and for someone who had been leading an alien invasion, Loki didn't look evil.

"You can't be all bad," Harry muttered. "You're my soulmate, so you can't be all bad." He looked at the two golden lines on the inside of Loki's left wrist. They were a mirror to his own mark, and if Harry wasn't mistaken, they were the same golden tone as Polyjuice became when his hair was added to it. Maybe soul marks were like that. The same colour as Polyjuice. The lines representing Loki were as golden as the ones representing Harry. It had to mean something, had to mean that there was good in him, that they were alike.

"Why'd you wait so long to call for backup?" Ron asked him. He, Hermione, and George had approached Harry and Loki from where they had apparated in.

"Yes!" Hermione glared. "You should have called for backup rather than take another quickness potion. You'd already taken a full dose. It's not advisable to overdose or to mix different ones. Never mind that you've done it before."

"It worked, didn't it? And I'm fine. And I wanted to see what he would do. How far he'd go."

"Well, he wasn't very friendly, was he?" said George. He picked up the daggers, testing their weights. "These are nice."

"Can't blame a man for defending himself. And he didn't hurt me."

"Suppose not," said Ron. "And we did expect things to turn sour. Sourer. What now?"

Harry sighed. He wished things could have been easier. He wished that his soulmate wasn't a millennia-old alien criminal who was supposed to be dead. He also wished the man wasn't so easy on the eyes. It would have helped if the man wasn't attractive. He was already conflicted about it all.

"Now I subvert half a dozen rules and bring him to a holding cell at the Ministry. Then I send a letter to Thor and hope that he's still in the country so an owl can find him."

 _\- Four Golden Lines -_

Darcy yelped, coffee spilling over the rim of her mug. "There's an owl at the window."

Jane turned to see it, lifting her eyes from her computer screen. On the railing of the balcony outside her kitchen window, there was indeed an owl. It was large, grey, tawny, and brown speckled, and had huge orange eyes as well two black tufts sticking up from its head, not unlike ears or particularly large and bushy eyebrows.

"Oh," she said.

It was midday. The sun was shining, an unusual occurrence in London in the fall. No owls should be out and about.

The owl stabbed its beak against the window, the tapping making a loud sound. It stared at them, unblinkingly, imploringly.

"What do we do?" Darcy asked.

"Nothing," said Jane. "It's not doing any harm."

"Nothing? I'm at least gonna Instagram this." True to her words, Darcy pulled up her phone and began to film.

The owl tapped the glass again.

"This is very odd owl behaviour," said Jane.

"You're telling me. This is the weirdest shit that's happened this week. This month too, though that's only because we've just entered November and all the other weird stuff happened in October."

"Is something wrong?" Thor, who was still with them, asked, entering the room.

"Owl." Darcy, pointed at it with her free hand, and as if on cue, the owl tapped its beak against the glass again, more insistently.

Thor approached it slowly, giving it time to escape if it desired. It didn't fly away. It tilted its head up and looked at him, opening its beak and letting out a hoot, the sound piercing through the glass. It stretched out a leg. There was a paper tied to it.

Thor, while not familiar with owls as message deliverers, knew that birds could be used to send letters. His father favoured ravens.

"I believe it has a message," he said, opening the balcony door.

"A message?" said Jane.

"Yes." He held out his hand, allowing the animal to approach him. It jumped up unhesitantly, flapped its wings once, and landed on his offered arm.

"I can't believe this," said Darcy, eyes flicking between watching things go down in real life and through the screen of her phone.

Thor untied the paper. It was a small scroll which expanded as he rolled it out. He frowned at it, accepting the unexpected occurrence.

"Did that just?" Jane asked.

"It did." He nodded.

Having delivered its burden, the owl flew off on large, silent wings, and Thor turned his attention to the letter.

 _To Thor Odinson_

 _Loki is not dead. I know because he's my soulmate. He sought me out. I went to meet him. I arrested him, and am detaining him. Please retrieve him at your earliest convenience. Find the telephone box on Edel Street in London. Dial 62442 and state that you're there to see Harry Potter. I'll come and meet you and take you to him. Please come alone._

 _Regards  
Harry Potter  
Head of the Auror Office  
British Ministry for M_

The note crumbled in Thor's hand as he clenched it. It was impossible. Only, of course, it wasn't. Loki had tricked him again. Had tricked them all to escape returning to prison. Thor didn't know why he was surprised. But he had believed the lie. He'd believe what his senses told him. That the blade had pierced Loki. That he'd turned cold and pale, some of the magic that hid Loki's origin fading, making his skin ashy. Thor had believed the breathlessness of Loki's last words. The sincerity with which they were said, and the sad, heartwarming contents of them. He'd been a sentimental fool.

"What is it?" Jane asked.

"Loki," said Thor through clenched teeth.

She frowned. "What about him?"

"The sender of this letter claims that my brother isn't dead. That he's here in London. That he has arrested him. That they met because Loki's his soul mate."

"Oh," said Jane. Her hand went to the mark on her shoulder. The incomplete triangle that was printed there did not match the blindingly white wave on Thor's bicep.

"I have to go."

"Do you want me to—"

"I was asked to go alone, but if you could direct me to," he unclenched his hand to read the address again, and stared as the paper smoothed itself out, "to Edel Street, I'd be grateful."

"Yeah, sure." Getting back to the computer, Jane pulled up a map and searched for the address, showing Thor where it was in relation to her home.

"I have to deal with this. I may be gone for some time, but I will return." He took her hand, pulled her to his side, and pressed a kiss to first her brow, and then her lips.

"Okay," she said as he pulled away. "Go do what you have to do."

Rather than summoning Mjolnir, and having it take the fastest route to his hand, going through the walls of Jane's flat, Thor went to retrieve it from the hanger by the front door. He then went out onto the balcony once more, willed his clothes to change into armour, swung the hammer and was off.

He flew over London, the view similar to the map Jane had produced. Streets and buildings a patchwork far below him. It made it easy to locate the street he was going to, and within minutes he had landed in a small alley, finding the red telephone box. He squeezed his way inside and dialled the number as instructed.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business." The woman's voice was disembodied, much like Stark's Jarvis. Thor frowned at it. Magic. Earth had magic. It had to be. If it were all technology, he'd have encountered it before with SHIELD, and it made sense that if Loki had a soulmate on Earth, it would be a practitioner of the same arts his brother favoured.

"Thor Odinson. Here to meet Harry Potter."

"Thank you. Visitor please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

A badge came rattling out of the dialling apparatus. It was silver and said the words Thor had spoken. He picked it up, peering at it and wondering how he was supposed to stick it to the front of his armour. Would attaching it to his cape do?

"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk which is located at the far end of the atrium."

The floor of the telephone box lowered, and Thor descended down below ground.

 _\- Four Golden Lines -_

A fake sickle in Harry's pocket heated. It meant that Thor had stated his name at the visitor's entrance. He'd spelled the coin to alert him. Harry looked at Loki. He was still out cold. Though that was only possible because he'd taken four more stunners.

"Keep stunning him as needed," Harry told Gillian Arland, one of the junior Aurors. He'd chosen to ask for her assistance because she was Muggle-born and had kept up with the news out in the big wide world. She knew who Loki was. It made explaining why Harry had arrested him easier.

"But he's already taken seven stunners. Won't anymore—"

"You know he's not human. He can take it."

She nodded with a grimace. "All right, sir."

"Good. I'll be right back." Harry turned on the spot, apparating down to the atrium. Being able to do that was one of the perks of being Head of the Auror Office. There were quite a few perks, though most of them weren't as much perks as they were things necessary to do the job well.

He landed close to the end of the Atrium where the visitor's lift deposited people and did not have to wait long for it to come whirring down.

And there he was, the man he'd been expecting to be his soulmate for over a year. Harry felt a flutter in his stomach because of those expectations, but he willed it to go away. It didn't matter that Thor was an impressive sight, tall and broad, or that he was handsome with sky blue eyes framed in long lashes, that he had a square jaw, and blond hair partially bound at the back of his head. He had no claim on Thor. Unbidden, Harry's eyes found Thor's soulmark. It was hard to miss. It almost glowed, being bright, unerringly white, and sitting on the man's exposed bicep. It was quite far removed from two thin, parallel lines.

Thor stepped out of the lift and Harry approached him, reaching out his hand to shake.

"I'm Harry Potter. Thank you for coming."

Thor shuffled a bit, moving his hammer and the visitor's badge he carried to one hand, leaving his right hand free. He looked down at Harry's hand. Seeing the lines of his soulmark there, Thor nodded a little before grabbing Harry's hand, grip firm.

"Thor, son of Odin. Thank you for letting me know my brother lives."

"It was the right thing to do."

"It can't have been an easy choice for you. It speaks well of you that you still made it. I am sure you understand that I will need to take him back to Asgard. It is possible that you'll never see him again."

"I do understand that, but after what he has done, nothing about this is easy."

"No, I suppose it isn't. I wish you could have known him before. It might have made a difference."

"Perhaps, but we have no way of knowing."

"True." Thor fidgeted with his name badge. "Should I?"

Harry grinned. "Don't worry about that. You don't need it." Harry reached out and took it, pocketing it. "And you don't need to go through with a search either. S'not like you have a wand in the first place."

Thor inclined his head. "What is this place?"

Harry shrugged. "The less you know about it the better, but it's the Ministry of Magic."

"You use magic?"

"We do."

"And you are hidden from the rest of Midgard?"

"From the rest of Earth? Yeah, we are. You picked that up quickly, and I'm sure you understand that it must remain secret."

"Very well, you may keep your secrets. I shall not spread what I've learned of this place. Now, where is Loki?"

"A few floors up. We can take the long way, or I can take us directly. I have to warn you though, it's unpleasant. Most people throw up their first time."

"Take us there."

Harry could appreciate the recklessness. "Okay. Hold on." He grabbed Thor's wrist and apparated them back up to the holding cell where Loki was kept.

Arland jumped and painted her wand at them.

"Relax," Harry told her.

"Sorry, sir."

"Nothing to apologise for. Did you have to stun him again?"

"No. He's not moved."

"Good. Thank you. You can return to your regular duties now. I'll let you know if I need you for anything further."

She bobbed her head and left.

While they were speaking, Thor, who showed no sign of ill effects from the side-along apparition, had approached Loki, though not before placing his hammer down on a pile of paper on the desk in the room. He sat on the edge of the cot, touching Loki, fingers at his neck, looking for a pulse.

"Alive," Thor whispered. His voice was rough.

Harry gave him a moment, trying to imagine what something like this would be like. He'd never been tricked like that, had never experienced what it was like to think that someone he cared for was dead only to learn that they were alive and had hidden it from him. He's been on the other end of that. He snorted internally. Maybe he had a few things in common with Loki.

"Will you take him back to Asgard directly?"

"I would prefer if he were awake."

"Really? The stunner will wear off on its own, and if you need to interrogate him, I'm sure you can do it over there."

"Can you wake him?"

"Yeah, I can, but if he does anything, I'll hold you responsible, and I'll also put him back under."

"Acceptable. I will control my brother."

"Because that has gone so well in the past."

Thor glowered.

"Fine, fine. On your head be the consequences. Enervate!" Harry pointed his wand at Loki, who moved as soon as the spell roused him.

He groaned, twitching on the cot. He opened his eyes, saw Thor and went utterly still. No one moved for a moment, then a large, insincere grin bloomed across Loki's face. "Surprise!"

"Why? Why do you keep doing this?" Thor demanded, shaking his brother and bribing him upright in one go.

Loki's eyebrows climbed up his forehead, one eyebrow rising higher than the other. "Really? You can't figure that out for yourself?"

"I'd hardly begun grieving over Mother and then you died too."

Loki's face twisted from wry disbelief to something pained.

Harry hadn't known that their Mother had died. He could sympathise.

"Where have you been?" Thor asked.

"Oh, around."

"Loki."

"I can tell you that he hasn't been on Earth ever since the Convergence. He was here shortly after it ended, disappearing and then returning only yesterday," said Harry.

For the information, Loki rewarded Harry with a seething glare.

"Anyway, he's awake now. Are you ready to leave?"

"Are you so eager to be rid of me?" Loki said.

"Yeah, well, happy to be a disappointment in return. Thor, if you leave soon, I can keep this whole thing from having to be recorded officially, which would be for the best." Harry looked at the pile of parchment on the desk, pushed the hammer out of the way and took up the top sheet.

The feeling in the room changed. The silence took on a heavier quality. Harry looked up, finding two Asgardians gaping at him.

"What?"

The silence lasted for a moment before Loki began to chuckle, shaking his head. "Your friends were right. You two would have been perfect for each other. The fates did us all a disservice."

Thor worked his mouth but seemed incapable of speech.

Glancing between the two brothers, Harry put the parchment back down. "Now I know I've missed something."

Rolling his eyes, Loki answered. "The Hammer. You have to be _worthy_ to lift it. To my knowledge only two people are capable, my questionably worthy brother here, and Odin. "

"I didn't lift it," Harry said.

Loki mouthed something Harry thought might have been: _I'm surrounded by morons._ "Moving it is equally impossible for the unworthy."

Harry grabbed the Hammer's handle, lifting it easily. "It's not all that heavy."

Thor made a keening noise at the back of his throat, face having gone rather pale.

Loki glanced up at him, grinning. "Oh, this almost makes this ordeal worth it. Not happy about the competition?"

Thor clenched his jaw, silencing himself.

Not wanting things to go any further off track, Harry pushed the hammer at Thor. "There. No harm done. If you could just take him and leave now, we can all forget any of this happened. I'll go pretend that my soulmate died before I was born, and you," he looked at Loki, "you can pretend that yours hasn't been born." Harry ignored the warmth of the mark. That wouldn't go away, but as he'd said, they could pretend.

"No," Thor said, having rediscovered his voice, "I will not be able to forget this. You are a friend of Asgard, Harry Potter. I am in your debt. You had proven your worth in my eyes already. This is only further evidence of your good character. If ever you have need of that friendship, I will answer. Asgard will answer."

Infinitely glad that he had put in the effort to learn a bit more about standing on ceremony, Harry clasped Thor's extended hand. "Thank you. The sentiment is returned. Should the day come when this office can be of service to you, and I retain the power to use it, we will be your allies. Now, let's get you up to ground-level so you can leave."

"Can you take us both at the same time?"

Harry shook his head. "It'll have to be one at a time."

"Hmm." Thor contemplated the obvious issue. Leaving Loki unsupervised either on a London street or in the cell without stunning him again was not advisable. With a satisfied nod, Thor placed the hammer on Loki's chest, forcing him to lie down.

"Really?" Loki wheezed.

Thor didn't pay him any mind. "Take me first, and then bring Loki and Mjolnir."

"Right. Hold on then."

They sidealonged to the alley with the red telephone box. Harry didn't stay. He turned right around again, apparating back to the holding cell.

"So, this is how it ends," Loki said. "The great _love_ story of our lives. We forget about each other. We pretend this never happened. Is that what you truly wish? You do not have to hand me over to Thor. You hold the power to keep me contained yourself. You could keep me around and discover why the fates brought us together."

"This is how it will have to be. At least for now," Harry said.

Loki craned his head, holding it at a strained angle to better see Harry. "What do you mean?"

"Are you sentenced for life?" Harry asked, leaning against the desk and crossing his ankles.

Loki gave a light snort. "I'm sentenced for long enough that you'll be dust before I am a free man again."

"That would be a very long time. I have reason to believe that I'm no more mortal than you. Death and I have a particular relationship. Perhaps, in the future, things can be different between us. I have to believe that there is more to you than what I've seen, but I can only act on what I know. Show me something more. Give me an explanation for why your mark on my arm is golden. Give me a reason to act as if you're more than a criminal that I have to keep from usurping my home planet."

Harry didn't give Loki a chance to answer. He grabbed Mjolnir and Loki, apparating, and disposing of both to Thor.

"Safe travels," he said. And before he could say anything more he should probably keep to himself, before the feeling of rightness at touching Loki could become too much, before his charming smile and honeyed words could seep further into his mind, Harry apparated back inside the Ministry, and marched up to the first unfortunate Auror he saw, demanding a progress report, determined not to think any more of the day's events. Overthinking things now that the mark was permanently warm would only lead to regrets.

He had done the right thing. He didn't need someone like Loki in his life, but the problem that he kept coming back to, even as he actively tried not to think of it, was that he had made a mistake. It wasn't about what he needed or wanted. Not now. It was about what Loki might need. _Better together than apart._ That was the point of soulmates. A connection that could give both fulfillment and help them grow. Perhaps Harry was meant to make Loki better.

 _\- Four Golden Lines -_

Prison was even worse this time around. It was the same cell. The same comforts were in place. He didn't lack for food, well-tailored clothes or elegant furniture. He had access to all fiction he could ever wish to read, and quite a selection of non-fiction too, though nothing he truly wanted to read, nothing about magic, illusions, or the arcane. What made matters worse was the lack of visits from Frigga. His feelings about her remained conflicted, but speaking with her, knowing that someone cared for him, had a kind thought for him, had made a difference. Now, he would never have that again.

After they'd retrieved Odin, Loki removing the spell cast over the Allfather's mind that had made him forget who and what he was, Thor had returned to Earth and his Mortal Lady Love. Loki didn't disdain Thor as much for it any longer. His opinion on that relationship being doomed to fail because of what she was and their lack of soul connection had taken a turn because of the experience of his own failed soul connection. As he was no longer on Asgard, Thor could not visit him, and he likely would not have bothered had he been close by. Odin hadn't been to see him either. Loki was isolated. The guards said a few words to him every few days. It wasn't solitary confinement, but it was not far from it. He was locked away with only his thoughts for company, and his thoughts were dark.

He'd failed. He was back in the lowest position he'd ever been, and the reason for it wasn't something he could have calculated for. That made him all the angrier. Somehow he should have known that finding his soulmate would bring problems. Somehow he should have prepared for it. Midgard was different than it had been several hundred years ago. The Avengers weren't alone. There were more people out there like them. How was he to know that his own soulmate would be one of their ilk, though? Was that his complement? Was a human Thor what he was stuck with? And would he be stuck for the rest of his life?

Harry Potter, and it chafed that he'd learned his soulmate's name from Thor's lips, had implied that he wouldn't be dead within a century, had implied that he did want something from Loki other than forgetting him. Well, Harry Potter would have to settle for disappointment. If he managed to get out of prison again, and he would, he would not change his tune. His agenda had always been and would remain to serve himself. He would have his due.

* * *

 **End Chapter ONE**

* * *

 **A/N 21st December 2017**

I have a definite thing for Harry being able to wield Mjolnir. I don't think teenage Harry is rounded enough to be worthy, but this thirty-year-old Auror who can put aside his own potential happiness to keep the rest of the world safe, he's worthy in my eyes. I also like MoD!Harry. It makes dealing with long-lived characters all that much easier.

I also have a thing for keeping things "realistic" and that means that someone who doesn't have a history with Loki, who doesn't already love him and care for him, someone who only knows what he did in 2012 wouldn't really be capable of accepting him right away. It would take time and willingness to look under the surface, and it would take some effort on Loki's part too, all of which I'll try to make happen in this story.

The dialogue said by the cool female voice in the telephone box is, of course, taken directly from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix chapter 7.

[Edited 3rd August 2018]


	2. Chapter 2

**Four Golden Lines**

* * *

 **Chapter TWO**  
 _Words: 5 665_

* * *

Harry arrived in Sokovia and was immediately taken aback by the loud noise. There were explosions, screams, and a humming of machinery hitting the base notes. He'd arrived in a part of the city that wasn't floating and his next order of business was to get up there to lend his aid. He looked up, setting his jaw at the sight. Torrents of blue flame were bursting from places in the rising rock, propelling it up, large and small stones crumbling from the base, hurtling down to the earth.

Harry had wanted to bring the entire Auror Department, every last witch and wizard under his command, but slow-moving legislations and conservative old men and women holding the deciding power had made it impossible. The belief in the necessity of the Statute of Secrecy remained strong. Neither the attack on New York nor the one on London had made the international wizard community willing to change. It would take something even direr to make that happen. At a guess, something directed directly at magic. Once they'd lost, they'd be willing to fight, willing to risk the comfort of hiding, but by then it might be too late. People couldn't seem to learn.

Harry had considered asking his Aurors and his friends to join him in breaking the law but had decided against it. He couldn't ask that of them. Not that he'd needed to ask. Some of them had volunteered right off the bat, saying that if foreigners had wanted to help during the Convergence, they would have welcomed it and since they had the power to help now, they wanted to show that they stood by the idea of _do unto others as you would have them do unto you_. However, one offhand comment had made Hermione spawn a genius, albeit also crazy idea. They'd decided to try it, to see if Harry could tip the scales on his own. Only if it failed, if Harry thought they were about to lose, would they break the Statute of Secrecy and show everyone the true power of their people. One way or another, the world would not end today.

The plan was for Harry to help covertly by pretending to be Thor. With the absolute chaos going on in Sokovia, no one would be the wiser if there were two thunder gods on the scene. At least it would be less conspicuous than a large group of enhanced people breaking all laws of physics. First, though, Harry had to find Thor.

Luck was with him. Flying out from under the ascending rock was exactly who he needed.

"Thor!" Harry yelled.

The Asgardian heard him and changed his trajectory, coming in for a landing next to Harry.

"Wizard! Have you come to join the battle? I confess I do not know much of your abilities, but you captured Loki, so I have no doubt that you can help, and any help would be welcome."

"Yeah, about that. Remember the secrecy I required last we met? The whole it's-better-the-less-you-know thing?"

Thor nodded.

"First, don't call me wizard in front of anyone, and second, I can't help openly. We have laws against that. If we didn't, I'd have brought more people. I might still do that if this gets worse, but that will make this an even bigger mess, and we want to avoid that if at all possible. I, or well, my friend had an idea of how to work around all the secrecy. If you agree, I will transform into you. There will be two of you, us, but the battle seems confusing enough that it should work."

"This is an odd request, but I'll agree, if—" He held out his hammer.

Harry took it, hand enclosing the buttery leather of the handle. It fit well in his hand, and the burden was no heavier than it had been a year before. A spark of electricity travelled through his arm, tingling pleasantly.

"That makes three of us," Thor said, accepting Mjolnir back. "Good."

"Three?"

"An artificial being, metal and flesh combined, has proven worthy. He's on our side in this fight. Now, as you have not yet changed, I assume you need something from me for your spell?"

"Yes. Any part of you would do. Mostly we use hair."

"Uhm." Thor pressed his lips together, hand rising to protectively lay over some of the blond tresses flowing down his shoulder.

Harry let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Seriously? Come on. I only need a single hair."

"Very well." Still not pleased, Thor provided a strand of blond hair, which Harry placed in a bottle of Polyjuice Potion.

Seeing the colour change through the clear glass would have been fascinating at any other time, but Harry only wanted the transformation from the colour of mud to bright electric blue to go faster. A lingering moment later it was done, seeming to have gone successfully.

"Cheers!" Harry lifted the bottle, taking a gulp, hoping that the trend of him being able to use potions that would kill most wizards would continue, and again, luck was with him. Things went as they should. The potion was disgusting, and the transformation was distressing, but at the end of it, Harry had gained several inches in height, his glasses had become useless pieces of glass, and his hair had lengthened as it drained of its inky blackness.

Harry laughed in Thor's voice. He felt amazing. He knew he could run around all day without breaking a sweat. Knew he could fight tirelessly for hours upon hours. He felt powerful, invincible to the degree of intoxication.

"Asgardian bodies are bloody brilliant."

"Well, this is not at all disconcerting. Doesn't remind me of the last time Loki took my form at all, how he used it to cause me endless embarrassment." Thor cleared his throat. "What about armour?"

Harry looked at his clothes. Dark red robes covered tight fitting dragonhide armour that had flexed to fit his new physique. He banished the billowing cloth, as well as his glasses, taking out his illusioned wand and a disillusioned broom, lighting his grip on them when he felt the wood groan in his hands. Thor was ridiculously strong, and so, for the time being, Harry was too. "Will this do?"

Thor ogled him for a second, eyes tracked on Harry's wand which looked like Mjolnir, but he quickly composed himself. "It will do very well. Do you require assistance to get up there?"

"No." Harry straddled his invisible broom, kicked off hard from the ground and was off, cleaving the air and leaving a small crater behind. Thor spun his hammer and joined him. His disturbed expression turned into something closer to delight. He was enjoying the absurdity of having a clone, and Harry shared his joy, allowing himself a moment to revel in the feeling of being on a high. It was akin to the one time he'd taken Felix Felicis. The moment passed as they gained altitude. Harry made himself remember that he didn't have luck potion on his side. He had to keep a clear head. They were heading into danger, and though he felt invincible, he wasn't. Being serious was made easier for them both as two cars with people inside tumbled past them. It was time to get to work.

Harry went for the convertible, grabbing the sole woman inside, dragging her out of the vehicle, and bringing her down to the relative safety of the ground. He took a second to assure that she would be able to escape on her own, and flew up again. Meanwhile, Thor had grabbed the entirety of the other car and had put it on the floating island.

Up there, another Avenger waited. The original hero. Captain America, Steve Rogers. The shield he carried with its red, white, and blue star motif was unmistakable.

Rogers looked at them, eyes growing wide. "Thor?" He switched his gaze between them, between the two Mjolnirs.

"There's an explanation," Thor said.

"Make it quick."

"This is Harry Potter, my brother's soulmate. I've mentioned him."

"Now this would give Loki a complex." Roger's gaze came alight with amusement.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't usually look like this, but I'm not strictly allowed to be here, so a bit of deception is necessary."

"The reason for that?"

"Sorry, can't say."

"And _I_ can't say that reassures me. Thor?"

"You have to trust him. He would not be able to wield my hammer if he weren't deserving of trust, and if that's not enough, trust me."

"As you say." Rogers turned to Harry. "Your abilities?"

"Well." A few robots were flying up behind Rogers, and Harry cast a lightning spell at them with his disguised wand, the energy coming much too easily. White hot energy zapped the metal men out of the sky and into little tiny pieces. Harry grinned, letting out a small whoop.

Thor reached out and touched his shoulder. "Easy, my friend."

"Sorry. But this is awesome. You're awesome. Do you know that?"

"What's going on?" Rogers asked.

"Contrary to what I first thought, Harry must have done more than change his outward appearance." Thor cast a look at Harry that demanded he explain.

"Yeah. This wonderful body's all you for the next hour or so. My DNA is Thor's, everything from this ridiculously pretty hair to the bones." Harry laughed. He felt great.

"Can you handle it?" Rogers asked.

Harry closed his eyes, trying to find reason, concentration, to not be drunk on the strength that was flowing through his current body. He could master himself. He had to. Hearing approaching enemies, he snapped his eyes open and zapped another four robots that were sneaking up on them. The power that rushed through him, was still phenomenal, but he was better prepared for it and didn't let it get to his head. Well, not as much. "I can handle it."

"Right." Rogers nodded with furrowed brow. "I suppose further explanations can wait. We can't say no to allies of any sort. Tony needs someone to distract Ultron, and all of us need to keep the civilians safe. Get to it!"

 _\- Four Golden Lines -_

Once the battle had come to an end, Thor searched for Harry. They had won, left to live and fight another day. And that day was coming. The vision of the Infinity Stones that the witch, and later the well of eternity, had granted him, the realisation that he'd encountered three stones in as many years weighed heavily on his mind. Loki must know more than he'd said. Harry might be the one capable of making him speak.

Thor found Harry at the edge of the crater that had been left behind when part of Sokovia was sent to the sky. Earth and barren rock gaped in the big wound. The bedrock was melted in places from the heat of the engines that had propelled Ultron's meteor and water pooled at the bottom, reflecting the sky. Harry looked down into it, lips pressed tightly together.

It was odd seeing yourself from the outside. It never ceased to be strange no matter how many times it happened. Seeing himself flying on the other side of the city, calling down lightning on the robots had been surreal, and so was seeing Harry now, face set in a morose expression which Thor knew was fuelled by feelings of guilt and grief, fuelled with regret at not being able to do more.

"Thank you for your help," Thor said, clasping Harry's shoulder, determined to alleviate some of his distress. "You performed admirably. If it weren't for you, this would have been much worse."

"But it could have been better," said Harry. "You already know I could have brought more people like me."

"Yes."

"We could do so much to help, but most of us don't want to. My people hide, only caring about themselves. Do you know that when I was younger and asked why we're hiding, I got the answer that regular people would demand we solve all their problems? So now we're stuck in our ways and won't help at all."

"You cannot decide over the wants of others, only lead by example. And you did your part. There is nothing for you to regret."

Harry chuckled humorlessly. "Perhaps. But you did not come to hear me complain, or so I assume."

"No. I have a request. I need your help to stop something like this, but larger, from happening. Things are moving out in the universe. Stirrings not heard of an age. I don't know what it is or what it means, but I sense there's danger coming, and Loki is involved with it. He will not speak to me or our father about it. I'm hoping he might speak to you. With his knowledge, we may have a better chance of stopping it. Come with me to Asgard. Speak with him. See what you can learn."

"He won't talk with me. I sent him to prison. I'm the enemy, same as you. It won't lead to anything."

"Maybe not. But I need you to try. And I need you to succeed, so you shall have to be more clever than my brother."

 _\- Four Golden Lines -_

At the sound of approaching guards, at the obnoxiously loud clanking of their armoured feet, Loki settled on the divan, ankles crossed, and picked a book at random, pretending to be absorbed in it. He didn't look up when his new arrived company came to a stop outside his cell. He scanned the page, giving the illusion of eyes following the progression of graphemes. He saw nothing, listening, foregoing the information of his other senses to concentrate on what his ears were telling him. The clanking stopped. A moment of silence passed.

"Hello."

Loki's neck cracked. He looked up so fast.

He had heard right. He had recognised the voice, had judged it correctly though he'd only heard it once before. It was his soulmate.

Rising slowly, Loki pushed out a broad grin to stretch his lips. "Isn't this a delightful surprise? What earns me the honour of a visit from the illustrious Harry Potter?"

"I'm here to talk. Can I come inside?"

"That is not for me to decide. If you've failed to notice, this is not a suite for entertaining guests but a prison cell."

"I'm asking because it's the polite thing to do. I will not come in there unless you invite me." Potter stood there waiting for Loki's reply, face earnest, stance relaxed.

Loki rolled his eyes. "I will not escape your company either way, will I? You'll simply pester me from where you are."

Potter shrugged.

"Very well. Please, do come inside. Join me."

The guards strode into action, swords drawn. "Back to the wall, hands at your side.

Loki complied. He backed until he was as far from the barrier as he could come, his back to the white wall. There were too many people there to attempt a direct escape. He counted five guards and Potter. He would wait and find another way. Besides, he was curious.

The barrier went down. The low hum of its activation ceasing. Potter stepped through and then it was back up again, a golden web separating them from the rest of the world.

Loki moved forward slowly, only taking a few steps.

Potter turned to the guards. "Could you leave us? I would like to speak to him alone."

They shared looks among themselves. "We will not be far." They went back whence they came, returning to the prison entrance.

"Can I sit?" Potter nodded to one of the chairs.

Uncaring, Loki waved his hand. Potter settled, getting comfortable.

"Now, will you tell me why you've come? Surely a mere conversation would not be enough to bring you to Asgard."

"What's your favourite colour?"

"Excuse me?" Loki tilted his chin down, raising his eyebrows, perplexed by the innate question.

"What's your favourite colour?"

"I heard you the first time."

"So what is it? I like blue. Your turn."

Allowing a measured pause to go by, Loki answered, "Green." He squinted his eyes, trying to see through Potter to understand what had brought him to Asgard. Potter could not have come on his own. He would need to be invited. Thor then.

"Green's nice," Potter said. "Whenever someone else picks what I'm to wear, they pick green. Probably because of my eyes, but I didn't always like green. I used to associate it with bad things. Back when I went to school, all the students were divided into four groups, houses. Green was the colour of the house I got on with the least, and that's putting it mildly, but I like it now."

"I see." But he didn't see. Not yet. It was unclear what Thor would gain by sending Potter here. Thor wanted to be a hero, to save people. Thor must suspect him of something and would use Potter to gather information, using their inherent connection. If it wasn't so annoying Loki would have been impressed by Thor's underhand tactics. Perhaps the lout was changing for the better, gaining some cunning to go with the brawn.

"Were you reading anything interesting when I interrupted?" Potter asked.

When Loki didn't answer, only looking at him searchingly, Potter went on prattling.

"I'm not much of a reader myself. One of my friends has tried to change that for years. She loves books, but I've always liked practical things better. I don't like being still and I've always found it easier to learn by doing. I take it you'd agree more with her." He smiled.

Allfathers have mercy! Potter was trying to be friendly, probably trying to build a relationship to get them to a point when he would allow himself to be influenced, and Norns, he was bad at making friendly conversation.

Now, to decide if he would play along or put a stop to it. He had to say that watching Potter fumble through his attempt was the most fun he'd had in a long time. He might as well enjoy it as he searched for an escape, and the longer it lasted, the likelier it was that he'd find a way to get the upper hand.

"I do enjoy reading," Loki said. He picked up the book he'd pretended to read. He'd read it all before, several times, long ago when reading was a refuge, a freely chosen joy, not something to do to make the hours tick by. "This is an epic poem of a hero on a long journey to conquer those that threatened his home, but he returns to find his home in ruins, and the ghosts of his family drive him to suicide by blaming him for their deaths."

Potter's eyebrows climbed up to his messy bangs. "And that's entertaining?"

Loki shrugged one shoulder. "It's more stimulating than looking at the wall."

"Couldn't you pick something else if it doesn't interest you?" Potter looked at the overflowing bookshelf, at the pile of books on the floor at its base.

"They're more of the same. Stories. I prefer to learn something from what I read, useful things, but the Allfather has decided that I cannot be trusted with sources of proper knowledge as I would use them in a way that is contrary to his wishes."

"Would you?"

"We've seldom been of the same opinion."

"That's not an answer."

"No?"

Potter shook his head, leaving that line of inquiry. "Maybe I can provide you with some better reading material."

"From Earth?" Loki scoffed. "Spare me."

"It's an open offer if you change your mind."

"Are you planning on impose your presence on me regularly then?"

"I have an open invitation to visit, so yes, I suppose I am."

"And what will we do during these visits? What do you want from me?"

Potter locked eyes with him. "I was wrong," he said. "You were right."

Loki froze.

"We should do as you said and try to discover why we have these marks." Potter held out his wrist, displaying the two gold-shimmering lines there.

Loki slid his fingers under his own sleeve, touching his own mark.

"I know it won't be the same here as it would have been had you gotten to stay on Earth, but it's something. I admit that I was too quick to dismiss it. I've had time to think about you, us, and I need to see where this goes. I'd hate to live my life wondering what might be and never knowing. There was another big battle on Earth recently, and I met Thor there. Seeing him again, I had to face my choice with you, and I took the opportunity to do something about it. I asked him if I could see you. He wasn't thrilled about it at first, but he did agree to help me, and so here I am."

Potter looked too unerringly into Loki eyes as he spoke. Overcompensating for a lie. Loki knew the tells, had worked on eliminating them from his own speech and movements, had trained himself to be able to act natural no matter what, to not give too many details, to bend the truth, to believe in it wholeheartedly and to remember all he said. Potter wasn't making rudimentary mistakes, but he made mistakes. The question was how much of it was a lie.

"So all you want is to get to know me?"

"Yes."

Loki sighed as if giving in. "Have this literate friend of yours pick a book for me."

Potter grinned. "She'll be delighted."

 _\- Four Golden Lines -_

The next time Potter came, he brought as many as eleven books. They were all large, yet he pulled them from a small pocket, a physical impossibility, not something he knew the people of Earth to be capable of. It had curiosity gnawing at Loki, and he had to ask.

"What are you? You're no regular mortal. You use magic. You wouldn't tell me before. Will you now?"

Potter put down the last book. "There is an introduction to my people included here. It's, of course, directed at people who live on Earth not people like you, but it should let you know the basics."

"Humour me. Tell me in your own words."

"All right. I'm a wizard. A human wizard. We are born with magic. We live separate from the rest of the world. We can manipulate matter and energy and minds with our will, using incantations and wands to focus our magic."

"And are all human wizards as strong or fast as you?"

"Given the right preparation."

Loki tilted his head.

"If we drink concoctions prepared with magical ingredients, we can change much about our physicality. Ordinarily, I'm no different from other humans, though wizards and witches heal better and don't grow sick as much."

"So now?"

"So now I'm full up on those same potions as when we first met."

"Ah."

"I'm not that stupid."

"I suppose not."

"Do you care to share anything about your own abilities?"

"What have you seen and heard?"

"You use illusions, and you know how to use a blade."

"So which of these books is it?"

"That's all you're giving me?"

"Is it this one? An introduction to magic for Muggles?"

Potter sighed. "Yes."

 _\- Four Golden Lines -_

That was the tone for many more visits. Potter tried to be kind, attentive, and considerate, but he never let go of his caution, and Loki gave as little as he could, unwilling to forgive Potter for sending him back to prison, always searching for a way out that wouldn't immediately have his escape discovered.

Nevertheless, Potter's presence and absence now controlled Loki's life, making him resent his soulmate even more in the time he was left alone with his thoughts. When they were together, though, he was enraptured, too enraptured to have time for any resentment. He did not want to depend on Potter for anything, yet he came to crave the stimuli of conversation, growing antsy when he was alone even with the constant stream of books he was served. Over time, as he allowed himself to appear more friendly as to lull Potter into false safety, it become more difficult to keep an eye on the goal of finding a way to trick his way out of the cell. He was starting to like Potter. His pretence turning to reality as Potter never showed any sign of being anything less than honest in his intent of simply wanting to get to know him.

A number of months after his first visit, Potter was different as he arrived. He had dark circles under his eyes, bruise-like, and his steps lacked their usual spring. Another thing that was different was that Loki's first thought wasn't on how to exploit it. It was worry for Potter.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Won't you tell me?"

"It was only a dream."

"If it were only a dream, I don't think you would look as if you'd not slept for days. You can tell me this. Let me help you."

Potter looked at him with appropriate scepticism. "You want to help me?"

"Or I want to mock you for your nightly terrors. Take a gamble."

"Fine." Potter approached the barrier, leaning against one of the pillars at the corner. "In the dream, I saw Asgard destroyed, fire consuming everything."

"Is that all?"

"That's all."

"Have you been reading about Asgard perchance?"

"No. Why?"

"No reason. If you're not feeling well, perhaps you should return home and rest."

"I'm here now, so I should stay for a bit." Potter activated the key to the cell. He'd been entrusted with it a few weeks before, no longer dependant on the guards to join Loki. He continued to be annoyingly cautious, however, and hid the key somewhere Loki couldn't reach it, magic at work, and he always waited to enter until Loki stood with his back to the wall.

"How'd you like the last book?" Potter sat down, slouching in his fatigue.

"Quidditch is ridiculous."

"Hey!" Potter gained energy with his indignation. "You wouldn't say that if you'd ever played it yourself."

Loki smirked. "Oh, but I would. Completely ridiculous. And entertaining. I'd like to try it."

"We'll make it happen."

Loki's smirk softened to a smile.

 _\- Four Golden Lines -_

The circles under Potter's eyes became as recurring as his visits. And always the answer to why was the same. Reoccurring dreams of Asgard's fiery destruction. It took another couple of weeks before Potter discovered an answer, confronting Loki about it.

"I'm dreaming of Ragnarok. A prophecy about the end of the gods. Merlin, I hate prophecies."

"It does seem like it."

"And you knew all along. Of course. But why would I dream about? It makes no sense. This isn't the danger that was supposed to come."

Loki jumped to his feet. "What?"

Potter was slumped over, chin resting in his hand, his glasses pushed up into his hair. He looked at Loki, squinting to combat his myopic vision, all barriers gone. "You know what I've been doing just as well as I do. You've been doing the same, haven't you?"

Betrayal ripped through Loki's chest. He'd grown to care despite himself. Had grown to think that Potter was genuine, and noble fool that he was, it probably was genuine, but it was also fueled by an ulterior motive. The motive was to gain his friendship to make him… do something. He'd known. Potter was like Thor, and Potter was like him. The world had to be saved, and if lying could help, lie he would. Loki resented himself for admiring Potter, and for not immediately hating him again.

Loki cracked a grin, shutting away everything he was feeling behind it. "Yes, we've been playing the same game."

"Have we reached the point where you're willing to talk about what happened to you before you showed up on Earth with an army?"

"Is that what this is about?"

"It is about the Infinity Stones and whoever gave one of them to you so that you could retrieve another. It's about what we can do to prepare when that someone tries to get them again."

Something pricked at the back of Loki's neck. He clenched his hands to keep from rubbing at it, turning his back on Potter. "You should leave."

"No. Something dangerous is coming, to both our homes, and you have been closer to it than anyone else. What you have decided to keep to yourself might get us all killed. By staying silent, you're risking everyone. Everything. I can't wait anymore. Not with these dreams reminding me of the danger we face. Why won't you talk about it? Is it stubbornness? Spite? Fear? You'll gain nothing, but stand to lose everything. Tell me what you know." Potter closed his eyes for a moment. "Please, Loki. This is the moment you show me that you are part of the world that's worth fighting for."

With hitching breath, Loki turned around to face his soulmate.

He watched Loki closely. He seemed to catalogue every slight twitch of Loki face, the flitter of his eyes, the way he clenched and unclenched his hands, and how he swallowed compulsively. "Please," Potter said again.

Loki shook his head. His eyes stung. He felt cold and bereft of energy, like he couldn't breathe properly, his throat swelling shut.

"Why?"

"I can't," he croaked out the words.

"If you can't talk, show me." Harry held out his hand, inviting touch, the catalyst of every soulbond. If willed, it would allow them the same access to each other, soul and mind, as the first time they'd touched, a natural, strong bond of thought transfer.

Loki approached on unsteady legs with his left hand, the one with the mark, reached out, fingers trembling. He wanted—

Inches from reaching Potter's steady hand, something in Loki snapped. He attacked, hand going not to the one Harry was holding out, but to his brow, and his mind followed, piercing through all defenses, seeking anything that would hurt.

 _\- Four Golden Lines -_

Harry was in a dark, misty graveyard. A huge, bubbling cauldron spat red sparks. Cloaked and masked figures closed in on him. Unforgivable curses hurtled at him, one after the other. Indescribable pain coursed through him.

He was in the Department of Mysteries. There was danger, fear, loss, and torture of several kinds, emotional, physical, and mental.

Across the lake came a swarm of cloaked figures. They blocked out the full moon. The water froze as they flew low, draining all warmth and happiness from the world. A woman screamed.

He was in a Hogwarts corridor on one of the upper floors, rushing down from the astronomy tower. He fell to the floor, pain robbing him of all control.

A dog barked at him, front paws at the base of the tree, jumping, trying to get at him, to bite him again. It had been at it for hours. The branch he was sat on cut into him.

His long body slithered down a hallway. He was striking at a man with red hair and glasses. His fangs pierced skin. Blood flowed everywhere.

Memories. It was memories. It was all inside his head. Not real. Not _really_ real. It was only remembered pain, but it was excruciating, all encompassing pain. He was drowning in it.

Asgard was in flames. Everything was burning, the fire taking the shape of monsters. Dragons. Snakes. And a massive, horned demon. He was dead. Harry's soulmate was dead.

But it wasn't real. Loki wasn't dead. He was the one doing this.

Harry pushed back.

The soulmate bond didn't stop at releasing him to the surface and pushing Loki out. The momentum carried them away from Harry's mind, propelling them forward into Loki's.

Harry floundered. Loki's mind was broken.

Well, not all of it, but sections, and the rest of his mind was shifted to accommodate the damage. Even Harry, who had limited experience and with the mind arts because he'd had so poor experiences with it when he was young that he'd never bothered to learn more than the basics later in life, could see that the memories weren't whole and healthy. Someone had tampered with them, had fractured parts and pieced them together, all jagged edges lined in a yellow glow.

One moment Thor was there next to Loki. His hair was shorter than when Harry had ever seen him, and he was laughing joyously. Then there was a flash of yellow and Thor's face was dark and twisted, the words coming out of his mouth hurtful.

The next moment, a man lay unconscious in a big bed and a regal woman bowed to Loki, calling him king. Loki's expression was distraught, but then there was another flash of yellow, and Loki was sitting on a throne, right at home in the position of power, ordering people about.

Darkness and cold followed. Loki tumbled through nothingness. Harry sensed his pain. It was the pain of having the truth upon which you'd constructed your existence shattered, and the pain of a body failing from lack of sustenance.

The natural progression of memory stopped. Harry couldn't continue, blocked by a solid barrier of yellow energy.

Loki shifted into existence beside him. The barrier lashed out at him, engulfing him, empowering him, controlling him. He directed the energy of the barrier in a barrage against Harry who was powerless against it.

He came to in his own body, expelled. His breathing was ragged, heart pounding hard, head hurting. The energy web around the cell was down. The Asgardian guards had come. They had their weapons trained on Loki, ready to strike.

"Merlin's saggy balls." He gasped. "Stop! Don't hurt him!"

* * *

 **End Chapter TWO**

* * *

 **A/N 5th May 2018**

Thoughts, feelings, hope for what happens next? Lay it all on me.

(This chapter was brought to you because I watched Infinity War and used writing as a means of processing it).

[Edited 5th August 2018]


	3. Chapter 3

—WARNING: in this chapter, we're getting into the territory that will earn this story its rating. And not in the fun way.

* * *

 **Four Golden Lines**

* * *

 **Chapter THREE**  
 _Words: 5 901_

* * *

Harry tapped his foot, stopping himself when he heard how much the noise stood out in the quiet room and settled for chewing on the inside of his cheek. After he'd stopped the prison guards from striking Loki, things had happened very fast. Harry had been forced to subdue Loki himself as his soulmate attacked. Harry had stunned Loki by throwing several stunners at him in quick progression, and once he was out cold, Harry had explained to the guards what had happened and their decision had brought them the royal halls of healing. The still unconscious Loki had been placed in a contraption which was manipulated by a striking woman who'd introduced herself as Eir, master healer of Asgard. She made holographic images float in the air above Loki's head, showing a web of neurons in glittering pale blue. Contrary to what Harry had expected, there was no trace of yellow in the images she'd produced, but the set of her mouth revealed that she had noticed something that wasn't as it ought to be.

Harry wondered how he'd not noticed that something wrong before. He was trained to discover mental manipulation. He had to be seeing as there was so much magic that could influence people against their will, and discovering it was paramount in his line of work. No one wanted a repeat of the Death Eater Trials following the first war with Voldemort where so many had escaped punishment by claiming to have been controlled. Learning to better recognize Imperious exposure and exposure to other means of mind control had been seen as paramount in the years after the Second War, and several new methods had been produced, most of which Harry knew well. He should have been able to tell that something was influencing his soulmate. Granted, whatever that energy embedded in Loki's mind was, it was unlikely to be anything Harry had ever encountered before, the origin completely alien to him. The logical excuse for his failure didn't stop Harry from berating himself for missing it until it came to a critical point though. He couldn't come up with any excuse that felt good enough. He'd spent so much time with Loki over the last few months, talking and talking. He should have been able to tell.

The guards from the prison who'd remained to guard Loki, not about to forsake their duty upon Harry's word that it was safe, snapped to attention, their armour clanking as they bowed their heads with a hand held over their hearts. What had prompted them to this display was the arrival of an old man with a family resemblance to Thor, wearing ornate armour and a patch over his left eye. Harry had never met him before. He'd not interacted with many citizens of Asgard, but it was impossible not to see the man for whom and what he was. Odin Allfather, the King of Asgard, Protector of the Nine Realms.

The King took in the room, shoulders and neck tensed. "What is the meaning of this? Why is Loki not in the prison as I've ordered? You, Harry Potter of Earth, tell me why this criminal has been let loose."

"Allfather," Eir, the healer, began to speak up.

"Quiet! If I want your opinion, I shall ask for it."

She demurred, going back to her work while still paying close attention to Odin and Harry, watching them through lowered eyelashes.

"Well?" Odin said.

Harry got to his feet, teeth clenched, anger dunking inside. "What do you think? He's with a healer because he's unwell. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out." Mouthing off against the sovereign of a realm as mighty as Asgard might not be wise, but Harry's temper had always been able to get the best of him.

Odin's face twisted in a sneer, and a growl rumbled in his chest. "Do not talk in that tone to me, boy! I have accepted your presence in this Realm because Thor swears that you are worthy of such trust and that it is by my spell that you've been deemed thus, but you should not test my patience. Explain how this came to be."

Harry didn't back down, pulling himself up to his full height, hands balled into fists. "He was about to tell me what I've been building up to ask him. He decided to finally help us, to do the right thing, not be a _criminal_ anymore, but something stopped him. He attacked my mind. And yes! I know he could have been lying, but when I defended myself I ended up in his mind and things weren't normal. The memories were twisted and there was a magical barrier. It attacked both him and me."

"Is this true?" Odin turned to Eir.

Her mouth was set in a grim line. "I don't know if the human tells the truth. I can only tell you what I've learned in my initial examination. Loki's mind was gravely injured some time ago. The natural healing has not succeeded in putting things right. The energy is out of joint, like bone not set right. I suspect torture and outside psychic influence."

All the brusqueness, all the power, all the command, and all the anger seeped out of Odin. He shrunk, his shoulders sagging, his legs buckling.

"My liege!" One of the guards rushed to Odin's assistance.

The Allfather brushed him off with a lifted hand. Taking command of himself, he went to Loki's side, knelt by the soulforge, and took Loki's limp hand, bringing it to his chest, holding it close, cradling it. Moisture glittered in his eye.

Silence reigned. No one dare interfere as the Allfather remained by his son's side, unmoving but for the emotions playing out on his face. Sorrow. Regret. Fear.

Harry resumed biting the flesh of his cheek and worrying.

A long while later, Odin placed Loki's hand back at his side and rose arduously to his feet. "Eir, continue your examination. Find what ails him and the cure for it."

"At once."

"Harry Potter, help an old man to a seat."

Harry's anger had ebbed, and he did as requested, taking some of Odin's weight, capable of mustering the burden of an Asgardian body because of the strengthening potions that were still flowing through his system. With Odin's arm draped across his shoulder, Harry led him to a bench by one of the walls, easing him down onto it.

Odin looked at Loki, unwilling or incapable of glancing away. "I failed him. I should have understood that he was hurt, that more was wrong than what I already knew. I was blinded by his actions, unable to look beyond them to the cause, too willing to think the worst, and in doing so I proved him right. I have played favourites with my sons. I let him down when he needed me the most."

"It's not over."

A small chuckle escaped past Odin's lips. "Ah, to be young again, and see the future with all of its possibilities stretch out endlessly before you. I don't have the luxury of time anymore. Yes, yes, what you say is true. It's not over for him. He shall have the help he should have received the moment he was brought home, and he will receive a new punishment amended by this new insight, but my failure as a father remains, and I shall have to live with that for the remainder of my days."

"I've failed him too." Harry looked down at his golden mark. It remained the temperature it had been for two years, slightly warmer than any other part of his skin. He'd found it an annoying distraction for most of those two years. Before Sokovia, he'd tried to ignore it, as he'd tried to ignore his decision not to give Loki a chance even as he sometimes lay awake thinking that it was a mistake and that they were meant to be together, to evolve together into something better, and that he should have put in the effort to change things, not putting all the responsibility on Loki.

Once he started visiting Loki, the mark had served as a reminder of Harry's duplicity, an inescapable accusation branded on his person, telling him that he was abusing something that was sacred. Later, the mark's presence had elicited more conflicting thoughts. The guilt remained, but there had been hope too. Harry could look at it and feel what he'd dreamt of feeling back when he hadn't known who his soulmate was, a comfort and gentle reminder that there was one person in existence who was meant to be a part of his life and make things better. The transition happened at the same time as Harry transitioned from forcing himself to be polite and friendly, to genuinely enjoying spending time with Loki and looking forward to meeting him, even if it meant that he'd be the target of acerbic remarks and stubborn resistance at his efforts of building a report. Yet Loki had changed over time too, ceasing to resist Harry's every effort at creating a relationship. Harry half hoped that he'd been right when he accused Loki of having pretended to lower his walls and accept Harry as a fixture in his life. It would make his own actions less injurious if the deception had been mutual as Loki has claimed. At the same time, he couldn't hope that. He treasured the progress they'd made too much, and he worried that they wouldn't get to continue. Either because Loki wouldn't be able to forgive him or because he was too damaged.

"I would not say that you've failed him," Odin said. "It's your actions that have brought us here, to a point where he can begin to heal and things can turn for the better. For all of us."

"Allfather, do you recognise this?" Eir interrupted their conversation, indicating a haze of yellow that the soulforge now displayed. It overlay the entirety of the blue neural connections, more saturated in some places, notably in the frontal cortex.

Bidden with a nudge to assist, Harry served as a human crutch again, helping Odin to get back to Loki's side.

Odin placed a hand on Loki's brow and closed his eye. Whatever he did, it had an effect on the yellow haze. It moved sluggishly, pushing outward. Odin gritted his teeth, wrinkled brow furrowed in concentration. He gasped, opened his eye, and drew his hand back as if burned.

"We need the mind stone."

"The mind stone?" Harry said.

"During his fall, Loki met someone who gave him a powerful sceptre. Later we learned that it held one of the Infinity Stones, the stones Thor is now searching for. The stone was removed from the sceptre and used to give life to an artificial being."

"Oh."

 _An artificial being, metal and flesh combined, has proven worthy._

"You must return to Earth to request his aid."

"Shouldn't Thor be the one to go? They know him and wouldn't mind helping if he's the one asking."

"We should not waste the time it would take to call him back and to explain."

"I guess."

"You will have to do it."

Harry looked at Loki, lips pressed together. Harry didn't want to leave, but leaving was the way to help. What he wanted, to use their connection again to go right in to defeat that which was hurting his soulmate wouldn't work. He'd been chanceless before and he knew that his skill in mind magic was severely lacking, especially in the aspect of healing. Gnawing at his cheek again, Harry saw the yellow haze moving. It was unsettled. It could be hurting Loki more. Something had to be done as soon as possible.

 _\- Four Golden Lines -_

It was night time when Harry landed at the New Avengers Facility in upstate New York. The Bifrost had slammed him down on a large lawn that glittered silver with dew in the light of a low hanging moon. The large, futuristic building in front of him was dark, no light spilling out the many windows.

Harry set off at a jog to try and find an entrance. Upfront there were only windows, showing large empty halls inside. While he could use line-of-sight apparition to get inside, he thought he'd better not. He didn't want to start a conflict. Knocking on the door like a reasonable person and calmly explaining why he was there was his best bet. He'd met some of them before, fought with them, talked with them, albeit briefly. They would hear him.

He backed off from the walls, out on the lawn, taking a wide loop around the next corner only to duck to the ground, falling flat on his front as something, announced by a high pitched whiz, flew over his head. A second later he was pinned to the ground by crackling red energy.

 _Destination, determination, deliberation_. He thought himself back to the rune that stamped ground at the spot of his arrival with a swift apparition, swaying as he went from laying down to standing up. He hated that manoeuvre.

He coughed weakly as his stomach settled and then gathered air. "Don't attack!" he shouted.

A man swooped down, landing in front of him, large metal wings spanning out from his back. A woman joined him, her fingers enclosed in the same red energy that had held Harry down. Harry didn't recognise the man, but he had met the woman in Sokovia.

"So you come in peace, huh?" the man said.

"Yes! We've—"

"See, I need a little more than that. The last Asgardian who wasn't Thor spoke of peace too, but then he went and killed a lot of people."

Harry cast a silencing spell at the man. Right now, he wouldn't hear people talk ill about his soulmate who may not have been at his full faculties when doing the killing in question.

Harry's action, not recognised as harmless, set off the woman who lashed out at him with more of that crackling red energy. It held him locked. If it weren't for the strengthening potion he took every time he visited Loki, Harry wouldn't have been able to move at all. As it was, he could move his wand hand just enough, and he sent an ice-making spell at the ground under the woman's feet. At the sudden change in footing, she lost her concentration, falling to the ground with a _thunk,_ leaving Harry free of her influence _._ That the man was silenced, meant little for his fighting capabilities, however, and he had taken pistols into his hands, aiming at Harry. At least he didn't shoot.

"Will you stop fighting me and talk with me for a second?" Harry tried for a placating hand gesture, palms up, wand held loosely.

The man with the wings waved one of his hands at his own mouth, like, _it's not as if I can talk, now is it_?

Harry grimaced.

"Yes, we'll talk," said the woman who'd climbed to her feet.

"Good. Thank you. I'm—"

Before Harry could get any further in his explanation of why he had come another player entered the field. Iron Man landed between Harry and the two others, gloved hand with glowing repulsors aimed at him.

"Make one move and you'll get blasted, ET."

Harry let out a big sigh, closing his eyes to gather patience. He didn't have time for this. Loki could be hurting. "Mr Stark."

"You know me?" The visor of the Iron Man helmet came up.

"We met briefly in Sokovia. My name's Harry Potter."

"Oh." Stark did a double take. "Oh! You! Didn't recognize you. You know, you look a lot less, eh, Thorish today. You're good ol' this-usually-works's soulmate, right? Say, does it work better now?"

Harry frowned. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Yeah, okay, never mind. Not that friendly yet? I get that. Attempted world domination is a bit of a turnoff."

"What?"

"Might be for the best that you don't get my references. So, why're you here? If you arrived by pride wormhole, I'm guessing you went along with Thor's plan. How's blond and muscly?"

"I've not seen him for weeks, but last I saw him, he was fine, and yes, I agreed to his plan."

"And? Did you get Loki to talk? Is this a call to tell us that we know who wants the MacGuffins and that the end is nigh?"

"Eh, I don't…The world's not ending. I'm here because we need to borrow the mind stone."

"Who're we? And also, no."

The woman took a few steps forward, coming up side by side with Stark. "You can't borrow the mind stone. It's a part of someone."

"Right. Bad choice of words. We need help from the one who carries the stone. Loki was influenced by it." Harry clenched his eyes shut. "Is influenced by it."

"Son of a bitch." Stark continued swearing in a long tirade, which Harry fully agreed with. He'd been swearing internally a lot over the last day. "So you're telling me he was just like all those mind-controlled agents, like Barton? Not in charge, just another puppet?"

"I don't know. I don't think it's that clear-cut."

"And you don't know who the puppet master is either?"

"No. He was about to tell me, I think. Tell me about what happened to him between disappearing from Asgard and coming to Earth, but the thing that's still in his mind took control. I, we, need to remove it, the control."

"Okay, so while I'm not his biggest fan, I can't argue with that. Letting someone, even if it's the guy who threw me out a window, have his mind fucked with is not okay in my books. Damn. I won't be able to stay mad at him if he's a victim. This all sucks. I should bill you or something, for robbing me of a target for my just ire. Did I just say just ire?"

"Tony." The woman placed a hand on Stark's upper arm.

"Yeah, okay, Maximoff, I'm done. Should I call Vision or do you want to? I think he'd prefer to hear it from you. He can make the decision for himself if he wants to jump across the universe. Who am I kidding? Of course, he'll help."

 _\- Four Golden Lines -_

Stark had been right. Vision had decided to help and had come to Asgard with two other Avengers tagging along to see to his protection. Harry hadn't thought Odin would be thrilled about that many guests, but Harry had not protested on the King's behalf, thinking expedience outweighed all else. He'd been right to expect Odin's displeasure which had been vocal and which had made the atmosphere oppressive until Eir had said that anyone who'd cause an argument and impair the sanctity of the healing halls would have to leave, Allfathers included.

When Vision had drawn away, the yellow haze pulled out like venom from a wound, and absorbed by the infinity stone, Harry had felt vindicated in his choice. Results were what mattered. Loki had still remained unconscious, though, kept that way by means known to the healers rather than by Harry's magic, and it would take some time before that wore off. Even in unconsciousness, there had been a change in Loki's expression, an easing of the muscles in his face, a relaxation proving what the soulforge was showing: normal activity without malicious outside influence.

Two days later, the Avengers were still in Asgard, waiting for Loki to wake up. Vision might be able to help further with Loki's healing, but Eir has said that Loki would have to decide that. When someone in her care was not in immediate danger she claimed to not be at liberty to prescribe treatments, especially not ones that crossed the line of integrity and morals. The wounds that remained in Loki's mind were, as she could see it, severe, but they had shaped Loki and removing them without his consent would be erasure of several years of experiences, turning things back like they'd been pre his fall from Asgard and she would not stand for that being done to him because they might think it best. The Allfather has backed her up as well, though he'd seemed pained in doing so.

Harry had not strayed from Loki's side in that time, using his invisibility cloak to get back in when Eir's assistants came to usher him out. He logically knew that there wasn't anything he could do and that sitting there was by no means productive, but he felt responsible for what had occurred and wanted to be there the moment Loki openness his eyes so that he might… Harry didn't actually know what he would do, what to expect. He wanted to apologise, smooth things over, make things right. Whatever that meant.

Though he hadn't meant to, Harry had fallen asleep, and he woke with a jerk, cold and warm at once, fire lingering behind his eyelids. He'd seen Asgard destroyed again, orange flame consuming everything, destroying, leaving nothing in its wake. Seeing it again had Harry shivering, his heart pounding too fast. He probably should have brought it up with Odin. It just hadn't been a good time. There were other, more immediate things to be concerned about, yet, he did want an explanation for it, and Odin seemed the likeliest candidate on the list of people capable of giving him one.

Harry breathed out a long, trembling sigh. The air didn't reflect right back at his face. His invisibility cloak had fallen off his head when he woke up, and he went to pull it up but noticed that he was watched, grey eyes looking at him.

"You're awake." He was on his feet and next to Loki without registering he'd moved.

Loki opened and closed his mouth, said something unintelligible, and cleared his throat. "I don't want you here."

"What." Harry's throat tightened, making it difficult to breathe.

"I don't want you here. I don't want you near me. I want you gone."

"But—"

"No. Leave."

Harry did as he had done the first time he visited Loki in prison. He ignored the unwelcoming words. Although his innards did not. They churned. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Leave me."

"Loki, I—"

"Leave!" Loki's face twisted, his eyes wild, and he was half sitting up, ready to bodily expel Harry from his vicinity.

Loki's shout drew the healers. Eir came storming in, face stern and eyes flashing. "Potter! You're not supposed to be here."

"Yes, I am. He's my— I have to—"

"What you have to do is follow orders, and my order now, as before, is for you to leave. You're upsetting my patient."

"But—"

"No buts! I will hear no more."

Defiance reared its head within Harry. He'd disobeyed before. He had no problem thinking about it again. "I'll only come back. Loki—"

"Don't. Don't come back."

Harry's storm of emotions stilled, his half cooked plans dissolving.

"Don't come back. Ever." Loki didn't look at him, spoke with his face turned the other way, voice perfectly levelled and cool.

Harry's face lost all of its colour and he felt vaguely ill. "You don't mean that. I understand that you might not want to talk to me now, but later—"

"Don't presume to know what I mean, what I feel. You understand little, but understand that I'm happy to be a disappointment in return."

Recognising his own words and having them thrown back at him was like being slapped across the face. Harry recoiled right into the hands of two guards how grabbed him, pulling him towards the exit him from the room.

Without any power potion left, Harry's effort to shrug them off was futile. Their grip was steel.

"I'm sorry," he said and the doors to the healing hall closed behind him.

 _\- Four Golden Lines -_

"Loki."

Loki turned his head, going from unseeingly staring out the window through which the cityscape of Asgard was visible to trying to see Thor. He squinted his eyes closed and blinked heavily, trying to get some focus. It worked marginally. Some fussiness remained, his sight as woollen as his mind.

Thor sat down next to him, exuding warmth though plenty of space remained between them. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm well."

Thor shuffled in his seat. "I've been told what happened."

Loki said nothing. There hadn't been a question there, and he had no wish to comment.

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell what had been done to you, that I thought it was all you."

"It was all me."

"Loki—"

"No!" Clarity came with the rising anger, Thor's face swimming into focus from the haze it had been in. Loki rose, putting distance between them. "I was not controlled. I made all the decisions. I killed those mortals. I lead the Chitauri. I controlled Barton and Selvig. I sent you tumbling towards your death in the glass cage. I stabbed you. It was me. All of it. There are no excuses you can cling to. There are no exonerating circumstances. Nothing has changed."

Vindication filled him as his words got a rise out of Thor who got up from his seat, coming to crowd Loki, grabbing his upper arms and holding him still so that he couldn't easily escape.

"Then tell me that it was all you in your cell before Potter brought you to the healers. Tell me that the force which Vision removed from your mind was your own magic manifested. Tell me that the damage Eir can see in your mind was of your own design. Tell me that you never had moments of clarity on Midgard during which my words got through to you. Tell me that you are not going days where you don't speak and you can't hear or see anyone. Tell me that you were ignoring me the first four times I said your name, that you weren't lost in your own head. Tell me that no one has hurt you."

"Yes. Everything is exactly as you've said it."

"You lie."

"Believe what you will."

Thor shook him as if that would make Loki see things his way. "You can't fool me, and you can't go on fooling yourself. You have to accept what happened if you are to move on from this, if you're not to be stuck in this room forever. You have to accept that control was taken from you, not cling to this idea that you willingly and gladly attacked Midgard, that you're a monster."

Loki flinched. "I am a monster."

"No. No, Loki." One of Thor's hands came up to cradle the side of Loki's face. "You're not. You've never been. You're my brother."

"I'm not—"

"You are my brother, and you've had monstrous things done to you, done through you, but that does not make you a monster."

"You know what I am and it is not your brother."

A gush of warm air hit Loki's face as Thor sighed. "I can tell that you will not be swayed on that now. I shall have to try again later."

Thor's grip went lax and Loki seized the opportunity to remove himself from his side, returning to his seat by the window, and fixing his gaze on the horizon. Clouds were forming there. Their soft, white shapes easy to rest his eyes on. He didn't have any more energy to fuel the anger he held for Thor. For everyone.

"Eir has told me what you're doing. She's not going to intervene yet, but you can only escape for so long. You can't keep hiding."

The last of his energy burned as anger through Loki. Teeth bared, he snapped around to glare at Thor. "I'm not a coward."

Thor had the audacity to remain calm. "Then face what has happened. Let Vision help you. He can use the mind stone to—"

"No."

"We expected you'd say that. I brought you something." He gestured to one of the tables. Loki, stubbornly, did not look. "Potter insisted I give it to you. It should give you the means to do the same thing Vision can."

"I don't want his help."

"And yet you have it. As you have mine. We'll keep giving you more time to do things your way, leaving the decision of when it's enough to Eir, but eventually, you won't be given a choice. You will be helped. I'd prefer it if it were in a way that didn't damage your pride. Rest well."

After Thor left, Loki sunk back into the meditative state he'd been in since shortly after waking up away from his cell. Thor was right that it was an escape, a way to hide. He felt as worn now as he had when he opened his eyes to the healing chamber. His head hurt whenever he cast his thought to the past. Remembered pain escaping the memories to tickle into his nerves, making it real. Panic came on, tied to the pain, bringing pangs of chill and heat, making him shiver and sweat. It was undesired sensations, and trying to sort through things made it worse, enhanced the reactions his body had. Ignoring it and going on as if nothing had changed worked just as poorly. Everything he encountered brought up associations. He couldn't escape. His sleeping mind was another trap. Because he would not consciously deal with it, the natural processes tried to do it for him, jumbling up things further, making the clear cuts between true memories and the ones inflicted on him ripple and blur. The solution had been not to deal with it, to fall into meditation where he didn't think, didn't need to sleep, did nothing.

At times stimuli he could not account for drew him out, such as Thor calling his name, or one of the healers coaxing him to eat. Other times, small things were to blame. Now, a smell reached him, sweet and something burnt and rain, which was how Potter had smelled one time when he'd brought his favourite snack to share, hair still damp from the rain in another realm. Loki came to, expecting to see the wizard there. He prepared for confrontation but found that he was alone.

Alone was bad. It meant that he didn't know what was going to happen next. Who would come. What they would do.

He shuddered, clenching his hand, nails digging into his palm. It was Asgard, not, _there_. No one but the healers or the people they approved would come.

The smell was from a trace the wizard had left, the thing Thor had brought at his request, a wooden box.

Loki picked it up, feeling the grain of the wood under his fingers, and loathing, unnaturally strong had him throwing it against the wall. He bent over, folding at the middle, phantom pain flooding his body. He should return to his meditation. Anger wasn't safe. Thinking of Potter could only make him angry, could only make him feel betrayed, could only make him think of Odin, Frigga, and Thor who had tried to destroy him. The smiles, the tender touches, the times spent together were lies that had been torn down, his eyes opened, knowledge bestowed upon him.

But it couldn't be right. If it were, he would be alright. Not hurt. Normal. Loki pulled at his hair, the ache at the roots making it easier to distinguish between the pain he felt in the present and the pain that came from his mind. His method of dealing with this wasn't working. But he couldn't accept help. Thor had tossed him into the abyss. Potter had tried to kill him. No. That was false. Loki had let go. Potter had defended himself when Loki was robbed of control. His skull split in two, joining the split memories. He was on the floor, head in his hands, jaw clenched as he let the pain ebb through him.

In time, it receded, and as he slumped. His hand touched the box. He jerked it back on instinct. He didn't want it. He didn't want Potter's help. It was poison, sweet, cloying. Making a frustrated noise at the back of his throat, Loki picked up the box. He needed the help. There _was_ help to be had. He wasn't left to fend on his own. Better to do something himself than to wait for Eir to force it down his throat.

The lid of the box opened easily, one of the hinges loose. Inside there was a letter, several smaller boxes, long and thin, and a shallow stone bowl. Magic tingled at his fingertips. Some of the boxes repelled him. Others were simply there. A couple pulled at him, singing softly. He knew not what they were. Finding out on his own was his first inclination. It felt safer to experiment and try his luck than to read Potter's letter, to have his soulmate's words come into his mind, to let them in where they could wreak havoc. But, of course, reading was the saner action, and he forced himself to abandon the seductive, beckoning madness and follow reason.

When he unfolded the letter, the scent that had pulled him from his meditation grew stronger, and Loki disappeared from the present for a moment, returned to the cell, feeling the warmth of Potter's hand as they came close to touching, something Loki had studiously avoided.

He clenched his teeth and made himself see the paper, carefully keeping the words in his own voice, not Potter's, as he read.

 _The bowl is called a Pensive. It is made to store memories and make it possible to watch them in full to discover things you miss when they remain in your head, and it makes it easier to recognise manipulation._

 _I only know how to remove memories using a wand, which is why the boxes are there. There's a wand in each box. Find one that will work with you. It'll be obvious if you touch them. A wizard doesn't choose a wand, the wand chooses the wizard. Once you have a wand, all you have to do is hold it against your temple and think of the memory you want to remove. Pull the wand away and the memory will be pulled out. Then you place the memory in the Pensive. When you wish to see a memory that's kept in the Pensive, you simply touch it. It will feel like falling, but it's not dangerous. You will be in your memory, but nothing can physically touch you. Thought is all that's needed to control it, to switch between memories and to get out of the Pensive. Think it and it'll happen._

 _A word of warning. All memories you remove in this way will really be gone from your mind. You'll know the event passed, but it will be blurry, the emotions associated with it dampened. It is not a long-term solution, but it can be a help while you heal._

 _If you want more assistance, you need only let me know._

 _I'm sorry I hurt you._

 _Harry_

* * *

 **End Chapter THREE**

* * *

 **A/N 12th July 2018**

Loki's not in a good place. How do you imagine it will go? Is there a happy ending to be had?

[Edited 5th August 2018]


	4. Chapter 4

**Four Golden Lines**

* * *

 **Chapter FOUR**  
 _Words: 6 368_

* * *

Upon hearing the telltale sound of the Bifrost, Harry interrupted his breakfast. Rising from the kitchen table, he mentally composed the note he'd send to the Ministry to explain his absence. This was bound to take a while. At least, he wanted it to take a while. He wanted news informing him that he was wanted in Asgard and if that were the case, he wouldn't be returning home any time soon. Shrugging on a coat, Harry went out into the dark February morning, heading to the spot in the backyard where he'd called out for Heimdall countless times. There he found Thor already striding towards him, snow crunching under his booted feet.

It had been over two months since Harry had last seen him. It'd been when he'd asked Thor to give Loki the Pensive. Harry hadn't been in Asgard since. Knowing that Loki didn't want him there, and respecting that wish, Harry had thrown himself into work at the Ministry to keep from thinking about what had happened too much, falling into his old habit of suppressing any unpleasant soulmate related thoughts, trying to be too tired to stew on past mistakes, and using more bottles of dreamless sleep potion than was advisable. And then Christmas had provided him with a welcome distraction, though the holiday had been a double-edged sword sending him careening between happiness when he was with people and melancholy when he was alone. Now everything he'd tried to avoid came bubbling up to the surface. Longing. Worry. Guilt.

"Harry," Thor said.

"Hi." The smile Harry scrunched up was shaky. "How are things going with… everything?"

Thor's answering smile was just as weak. "My search has not yet yielded anything. The universe is vast, and though objects as powerful as the Infinity Stones make big ripples when used, I've not discovered anything indicating their presence. But that's not what you're truly interested in, I don't think. Come, let us talk inside." Thor put a hand on Harry's shoulder, giving a light push, not accepting any argument.

Nothing further was said until they were seated at the kitchen table, mugs of steaming coffee available to occupy restless hands.

"The thing you left for Loki has helped," Thor said.

Warmth spread through Harry. He grinned. "That's great!"

Thor didn't smile. Rather his mouth twitched into the beginnings of a grimace of regret. "Though not as much as you might have wished."

"Oh?"

"Eir has told me little. She thinks I wouldn't understand, and she would be right. I do not understand the intricacies of the mind and how it might mend. Still, I know my brother. He's as stubborn as he's always been, proud, thinking that he must do all by himself, reluctant to ask for assistance before all other options are exhausted, and it was only today that he asked for help in mastering the tool you provided."

"So, we've lost a bit of time, that's all. He's asked for help now and I can come with you straight away." Harry was up from his seat before he'd finished talking, thinking of the things he'd need to bring with him to Asgard. Clothes other than what he was wearing, not Muggle ones and not his Ministry Uniform. Armour was for the best. It would help him blend in and if things didn't work out… well… On that note, he'd also need the strengthening solution and the quickness drought. He had some bottles that should do the trick. They wouldn't have gone bad yet. The shelf life was a couple of years. And—

"Harry."

Thor's voice stilled him, hand hovering in the air by the handle to his potion cupboard. As silence hung over them, Harry turned to meet Thor's gaze.

"Part of the request was that you not come. He wanted help in some other way, help not directly given by you."

"Oh." Harry deflated and berated himself for hoping too much. Of course, Loki didn't want his help, not after having been betrayed. Harry hadn't acted as a soulmate should. The first time had been forgiven. The second. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. "I should never have agreed to your plan," he whispered. "I should never have agreed to lie to him!"

"We didn't know that he wasn't himself."

Harry rounded on Thor. "That's not the point! It was the wrong thing to do, and now he doesn't want—"

"Stop it and listen to me. What did I say? He's stubborn, yes, but there is more to it. His reluctance to see you won't last forever. He'll change his mind. That he used something you provided is evidence enough. He's too clever not to grasp the opportunity to grow strong once he has settled on the price being worth the cost. We have to have patience. And you told me that he admitted to having lied to you as well."

"Two faults don't make a right!"

"No, they don't, but it means that he cannot fault you without also faulting himself. We all share the guilt. Blaming each other now won't help anything. We did what we had to do. All evidence pointed to that he was set on being contrary and that he would not care if the world burned. Lying was necessary to get him to talk. You know I'm right. We had to find out what he knows. We still do. The difference is that now we know waiting will yield results. Before we had no way of knowing. It'll take more time than I'd like, yes. If I could shake him and get my answers, I'd be well pleased, but getting him to open up is taking time and I have to accept that. Now we've made progress, if of a different kind than we anticipated, and we must take heart in that. I'll gladly take this stubborn, slowly healing Loki, who may one day stand at my side again over one who on the surface seems fine but has his mind filled with poison. Our actions, regardless of their questionable morals have led to a good outcome. I'll never be sorry about that, and you shouldn't be either."

"Yeah." Harry slumped. "Yeah, I can't regret that either."

"Then we shall not dwell on the past, but move forward." Thor's eyebrows drew together in a frown. "Though, there is one thing that I've not asked. What made you press him? You were patient before, waiting for him to change and want to open up. You never agreed when I urged you to hurry, to trick him into speaking. What happened that made you confront him?"

Harry clenched his teeth. Fire flickered in his mind, igniting as soon as there was a spark of remembrance. "I've been having these dreams. They started around that time. I told Loki about them, trying to see if he knew what they meant, but he deflected, so I found out what they were on my own, and when I did and confronted him about it, I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't wait for him to help us. I snapped."

"What do you see in these dreams?"

"Ragnarok."

A boom of thunder rolled through the sky, long and loud. Thor was on his feet, lightning sparking on the head of Mjolnir.

"We need to speak with my father."

 _\- Four Golden Lines -_

The end of the universe was frigid and dark. The cold was something Loki knew only on an intellectual level. The manifestation of the memory produced by the Pensive was utterly void of temperature, and he was blissfully spared from experiencing it anew, free from the sensory input dragging up a bone-deep fear and desolation born from abandonment. The darkness was there though, as foreboding in the memory as it had been in truth, the sky black apart from the weak glare of a nearby star and a few streaks of rust that stretched across the expanse.

In the early days of Loki's sojourn in this place, this Sanctuary, when he had begun his transformation, he'd looked at the nebulae and the bright spots that littered their bloody wombs and thought of himself like them, a star waiting to be born. Not a first generation star though. No. It would be rebirth following one of the universe's most violent explosions. A megastar burning out too quickly, a supernova turned to dust, left waiting for gravity to assist in coalescence into something new, something better. Experience had done to him what immense pressure did to light elements, creating more advanced building blocks from which rich worlds could form.

His self-perception had been naive and shared by no one. He'd been the only one on Sanctuary to compare him to something as beautiful, natural, and magnificent as a star, even if it was a comparison to a dead one. To the Black Order, he was scraps of rare, but tainted ore, needing purification and smelting, needing additions of other elements to make a stronger alloy, needing to be bent into shape, hammered and tempered to form a weapon that may be wielded by their _Father._ To the Other, he had been even less, broken beyond fixing, but perhaps possible to beat into performing for a short time. And to _Him…_ Well, that was one question he didn't have an answer for. His memories were contradictory.

Spending days and days wading through the memories had not taught Loki who was right or what was true. If anything, he'd become less certain about the answers to his questions, an additional alternative emerging: the possibility that all he knew was wrong and that the truth was well beyond recovery or even nonexistent, a beautiful illusion, a fairy tale told to children to help them understand the world and make it less freighting as any parent would want to protect their child from the meaninglessness, the inconsistency, and the chaos of the universe, lest it overwhelm their young mind and plunge them into madness, protecting them from his fate.

Loki stood at the side of his memory-self, watching him lay with his back in an unnatural bend, not having moved from when he fell onto the rocky ground. He was pale with anaemia, his unblinking eyes dull because of dehydration, his skin stretched tight over bone where fat reserves had wasted away. He was barely alive. His breathing, shallow as it was, wheezed laboriously in the thin atmosphere.

This was not this part of the memory that Loki was interested in. The part he wished to see would come later. How long it would be before something changed, he didn't know. When the memory had been in his mind, this part had been fuzzy. Now that he could see the state he'd been in, he was surprised that he had remembered anything at all, that his brain had been able to salvage any sensory input and store it. It was disgusting how little strength and dignity the creature before him retained.

Growing tired of seeing himself weak and helpless and pathetic and lost, Loki willed the memory to progress rapidly. It was easy enough to control a Pensieve Memory. As Potter had written, it took no more than will for it to happen, a thought.

Apart from being able to watch back his memories and discover more about them, he'd reaped several other significant benefits from using the Pensive. By dumping memory after memory into the stone bowl, he'd been able to preserve his memories for later retrieval, and Eir had without fear of hurting him been able to heal the scar tissue on his brain. He no longer suffered from the remembered pain, and he was better able to concentrate. It was not relief without cost, however. The process of moving the memories had been intolerable, the necessity of remembering without filter leaving him shaking and bathed in a cold sweat, and while he preferred not being controlled by the emotions tied to the memories, to not suffer from the remembered pain and connected emotions, he had been left numb, a fraction of himself.

By now, he had regained some sense of who he was, reabsorbing some memories, but the road back to health seemed like it was infinite and he'd reached a point where making further progress with this method was out of his reach. Discovering if a memory was false and twisted or merely enhanced by the Pensive's magic eluded him and his lack of understanding was infuriating. Potter had said that watching the memories as strengthened by the Pensive would help him see the manipulation, but he'd refrained from saying how one would be able to tell. Perhaps he'd deemed it obvious or simple to deduce. It wasn't. Loki couldn't tell what was meant to be true. The only discovery he'd made in that line of questioning was that he had more than one set of memories for the same period of time, but he couldn't for the life of him tell which was the original one and which had been influenced by the use of the power source in the sceptre.

His lack of mastery with this magic had been enough to send him into a fit where he'd broken most things in his room. He'd lashed out and had been restrained and consequently forced to endure Thor's company. He'd requested aid from Midgard in equal parts because he was sick of his condition and to send Thor away. The manipulation should have been glaringly obvious, far removed from the fineness he'd used to take pride in, but it mattered little as long as it produced results and Thor had gone as bidden, earning Loki a blessed respite from his worried glances and insipid words of comfort.

For the first part of the memory he was viewing, there was no divergence in memories, no dual set, nothing for him to look out for other than the content. The matter was clear, a single branch. He wanted to learn what a solid memory looked like to better be able to understand the difference between such ones and the other kind. If only he could pinpoint the exact point of divergence, he might be able to progress.

The Chitauri arrived, and Loki slowed the memory to a regular pace. The creatures came crawling across the rocks, chattering and scuffling. They prodded at memory-Loki, who let out a soft groan, and gathered him up without care, toting him away. Loki followed through the memory, climbed hurriedly over the rocks to match their pace. Shortly, the procession came to a stop before the Other. The hateful figure was clearer here than how Loki recalled him, the translucent quality of his skin and the bloodstains on his lips producing a remembered stench. It was rancid and so strong that it turned into a sensation of taste. The Other said nothing to his servants about the thing they'd brought him, but a twisted smile stretched the line of his mouth as he touched deceptively gentle fingers over memory-Loki's face. Standing on the sidelines, Loki recoiled in recompense for that he'd not been able to do so when it had happened to him.

Pain cut through Loki's head and he saw double. He blinked and his vision stabled. He paused the memory, went back a second and, success. Two semi-transparent versions of the Other parted from each other, splitting as Loki's memory became divided. He paused the memory and squinted, circling around one shape and then the other, trying to see if there was anything setting them apart, anything about one of them that wasn't genuine. The shades and highlights were the same. The solidity equal. He was missing something. There had to be something he was missing. A light, a sound, a sign. He had to discover what in blazes it was.

" _Loki."_ The voice came from outside, from reality. Loki pulled out of the memory at once. He would not stay in the Pensive if someone was in his room. Especially not someone whose voice he didn't know.

He straightened his back and whirled on the person who'd intruded, wilfully ignoring the vertigo that came from withdrawing from the memory.

"Ah," he said, taking in his visitor. Though he didn't know her by voice, he recognised her. Potter had shown him pictures of his friends as part of his effort at bonding.

"Not what you had in mind when you asked for help?" Hermione Granger said.

"I had a book in mind," he agreed, "but you're not so different from a book, are you?"

The insult tightened the skin around her eyes, but her lips formed a placid smile. "If it makes it easier for you to think of it that way, sure."

"Very gracious of you."

"Since you asked for help, I hope that you'll be gracious in return and accept the help I can give you."

"I would never dream of being anything other than gracious."

"Then you won't mind telling me what the problem is?"

"Well…"

"Yes?"

He clasped his hands behind his back. "One problem I've been thinking about quite a bit, one that I can't seem to do anything about is that each morning when my food arrives, it's been allowed to grow cold. The servants don't care about my comfort to that degree, you see." He bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile, moving to crowd her. "Then there's the thing about being robbed of my freedom, locked away and left to rot, unable to control my future, having my will infringed upon multiple times by multiple people through multiple means. And there's also the little thing with the people who call themselves my family lying to me all my life, and my soulmate entering my life only to continue their legacy and do the same, and oh, yes," he looked down his nose at her, "I now have to content myself with being pestered by a woman who thinks herself far more knowledgeable than anyone who's perception of reality has been limited to one world and who's only lived through a handful of decades should have any right to. That should about cover it."

She raised her eyebrows and followed it by also raising her wand, tapping the point against his chest. Loki's shoulders tensed. For all the texts he'd devoured on Midgardian magic, he had no practical experience defending against it, and his chosen wand was only grudgingly allowing him to use it. He'd been able to move quickly enough not to get caught by Potter that first time, but he'd not been this close to him when their fight started.

His defensive reaction was unnecessary. She walked around him and directed her wand at the pensive, mouthed a string of words as she moved it in several complicated patterns, producing sounds, and lights and effects without discernible meaning. She interpreted them readily.

"There's nothing wrong with the Pensieve," she said. "You've done no damage to it, though I'm thinking you might be damaging yourself as full of memories as it is. Is there anything left in your head?"

"Plenty. I'm not a pitiful mayfly such as you. I have forgotten more than you can begin to fathom."

"And the definition of graciousness is clearly one of the things you've forgotten. Duly noted." She picked up Potter's note. It'd been left on the table next to the Pensive. "And Harry never learned it in the first place," she muttered. "What was he thinking? This tells you nothing!"

Loki's first instinct was to protest. To defend. To say that his soulmate had done no wrong and that the confidence placed in him, the certainty that he would be able to understand it himself was flattering and also not a miscalculation. He would be able to understand it in due time and what Potter had told him had been very helpful in allowing Eir to help him. To think well of Potter had become the natural state, an instinct. The rift between them had not changed that, and he had to stop the words from escaping his mouth, close it and being anew. "What would you have told me?"

"Well," she lowered her shoulders. "I suppose, to be fair, that I would have started with something similar. It's not wholly terrible, simply insufficient. It says nothing about the history of the Pensive, or its limitations or any of the many subtle things you can use it for. He's not even bothered to say how you know a memory has been tampered with! That was the whole point of using the Pensive, wasn't it? Letting you understand what has been tampered with."

"And how would one tell if tampering has occurred?"

"The most obvious signs are jumps and shifts. Everything can go blurry as if the space the memory takes place in is filled with dense mist. The volume of the sound can shift, going low or high. If the witch or wizard who meddled with the memory is particularly skilled, not that that applies to you, the signs will usually be the same ones, only more subtle. You have to pay close attention to the mist or the sound. Simpler than that, you can use spells or potions directly on the memories stored in the Pensive and sort them without viewing them."

"That information would have been useful several weeks ago."

"Yes, of course, it would have, but expecting Harry to think of practical things when he's emotionally invested is bound to set you up for disappointment. Right, no use crying over spilt potion. I've brought some books for you to read and a larger selection of wands. How well did the ones Harry give you work?"

"Do you think another would serve me better?"

"Most powerful wizards, and you definitely fall into that category, have peculiar relationships with their wands. Your power allows you to work with a lot of different wands, but finding a perfect match is difficult, so yes. Statistics say that from a selection of ten you're unlikely to find a wand that'll suit you properly. The best would be to let you find one in the company of a wandmaker who knows what to look for and can help you shorten the search, but if a wand approves of you, it'll let you know loudly. Now, if I'm to guess, you'll want time alone to read through the books I brought you. I'll leave and return to fill in any gaps and oversee your progress. Something a book cannot do." She smirked.

Loki's own lips twisted in response. He didn't like accepting help. Not from a person. He had to admit something though. He needed it. He could certainly use her. And well: "I like you, Granger. I'll accept your help."

"Good, cause I wasn't about to give you the opportunity to say no. I'm doing this for Harry. You're lucky he's your soulmate, you know."

"I know no such thing."

She regarded him silently. "Maybe not now. We'll fix that."

 _\- Four Golden Lines -_

"I hope you have a good reason for demanding this meeting on such short notice."

None of the vulnerability Harry had witnessed during their first meeting was to be found anywhere in Odin's expression or stance. His kingly stature put Harry on edge, and he stood tensely, hands behind his back, feeling every bit the Auror recruit who wasn't allowed to slide by on his name, who was instead held to a near-impossible standard by the senior law enforcers, put through unforgiving paces.

Thor didn't share Harry's discomfort. "We have a good reason. We've spoken before of my dreams of Ragnarok."

"Yes, and as I've told you, the Twilight of the Gods is inevitable. Nothing can last forever. Not even we. Not even Asgard"

"Yes, and I had to remind you that it was you who taught me that destiny wasn't real, that the future is not written in stone, that no Norns sit at a well at the World Tree's roots weaving the strands of fate. If what you once told me remains true, no fire giant need lay waste to Asgard. The dreams can remain dreams."

"Shall we recite the entire conversation for the mortal's benefit? Very well. It is not destiny that makes Ragnarok inevitable. It is my knowledge that leads me to proclaim it. All things must die."

"Someday, aye. I would have Asgard's death postponed to the far future."

"As would I. Which is why I have given you leave to hunt down Surtur. Why you've not yet done so and eased your worrying is not for me to answer."

Thor inclined his head. "That is on me, and the day I will face him draws closer, but there's something more to this." Thor pressed his hammer against Harry's chest, urging him to take it, and Harry grabbed it awkwardly, holding it by the head. "Harry shares my dreams, Father. I think it must be because he can hold Mjolnir. The enchantment you cast on it when you banished me, it bound my powers to it, perhaps some of that lingered."

Odin's expression changed. His eyes gained a new glint, attention fully focusing on Harry. "It is possible."

"Wait. That doesn't make sense," Harry said. "Wouldn't Vision have the dreams too, if that were the case? He's held this too."

"It might be that this being that you call Vision could not be receptive to the might bestowed by the enchantment. He's an artificial construct. The amplified connection can mayhap also have something to do with the time you borrowed Thor's form. Only more time will tell to what degree you are affected. As long as it's limited to dreams, we should not be concerned."

"Are you sure we shouldn't be worried?" Thor asked.

"We mustn't invent strife where none is to be found. Deal with Surtur as you desire and be rid of these dreams and you shall both sleep easier for it. Any other consequences we shall have to wait for and handle as they arise. That is my final word."

Thor glowered and Odin smiled. He also sighed. "I see that you are not satisfied, my son. Very well. Let me then also say it out loud as to smooth you if my previous words were not clear enough. As soon as there are any developments with your young friend, I urge you to once more come to me. I shall not ignore it should things turn dire."

"Thank you, father."

"Ah, Thor." He looked long at his son, then glanced at Harry and shook his head minutely. "We've seen you too little in Asgard of late. There are people who would enjoy your company, and Harry Potter should be afforded the hospitality we've yet afforded him. Show him our home. Go, now. Enjoy the day and dwell not on your dreams."

 _\- Four Golden Lines -_

Loki swirled his wand in the Pensive. The new one he'd gotten from Granger's selection was nothing like the first. Where the last one had sometimes agreed to work with him, the new one was an extension of him, eager to do his will, as easy to control as a hand or a leg. It had given him a new appreciation for Midgardian magic and he foresaw many days when he'd explore the depths of its application. That future was far off though. For now he had still to write the ending paragraphs of his memory mastery.

He drew up the memory he'd just viewed, a silver wisp at the end of his wand, and placed it to his temple, sighing as he reabsorbed it. It was one of the very last. Only half a dozen memories remained inside the Pensive. And he knew what he would see when he examined them. It would be the same thing he'd seen in all previous memories of his youth. Two very similar recollections. One true. One tainted. One showing him the closest thing to reality that this type of magic could produce, kindness, cruelty, pain and happiness all there, mingled, not enhanced, not biased. The other twisting all things bad things to worse and all mundane words to scorn. Showing what had been a passing glance as a glare, and a happy smile as a sneer. Some of those changes had been the work of the Other, done with the Sceptre and through torture, some had been a product of his own bitterness.

Use of the Pensive had opened his eyes to all influences and allowed him to see what lay beneath.

His mother hadn't been cold and aloof. She'd merely thought it prudent to give him more space so that he could grow into a man. She'd loved him and done what she thought was best for him. It had been a miscalculation on her part. It was disappointing to see her faults. She had only a person.

Thor had not hated him. He'd been blind and foolish, stubborn and prideful, brash and hot-headed. It was bad character traits that had lead to Loki resenting him. Yet now he'd seen that the wrongs between them had never stemmed from wilful maliciousness on his Thor's side. There was as much love between them as there were misgivings.

It wasn't perfect. It was messy. It was real, and it was wholly different from what he'd thought. It was a difference for the better. A difference that made it possible for him to let go of his hatred. Unburdening himself of that cornerstone had left him wrung out, tired beyond all reason. Yet he was pulling through, taking it one day at a time. He was cautiously looking forward to mending things with his brother. The chance to do so was a gift he mustn't squander, which was why he must wait a while longer. He wasn't ready to do it right.

Then there was his father. Odin was static. He was so close to the same in both sets of memories as for it not to matter. He had made the choice to be a king and anything to do with parenthood had been left by the wayside. At least when it concerned Loki. Thor was the chosen heir and there the two duties coalesced. A man worthy of kingship needed a father, and a king had to train his heir, and so Odin had found the time needed to be a father to Thor. He'd not been good at it though. He'd failed Thor as much as he had Loki. If he'd paid proper attention to his favoured son as he would have, he would have seen what Loki had. Thor hadn't been ready. He'd been pampered to ruin.

No. As much as Loki had wanted to be proven wrong about Odin when he was proven wrong about Frigga and Thor, he hadn't been. It left him unable to forgive and forget. He couldn't see things in a new light.

And neither could Odin, it seemed.

Loki remained a prisoner. The rooms in the healing wing of the palace where he resided had been extensively modified to suit his needs. Furniture, knickknacks, books and anything else he desired had been added without restrictions. He was free to practice magic. He was free to take visitors. What he wasn't free to do was leave. Odin had not absolved him of his crimes because of extenuating circumstances. He'd not visited either. They'd not said a word to each other since his trial so long ago now. Perhaps that was for the best. Loki might not be able to keep his words conversational or his voice at an acceptable volume. He might not even be able to stay his hand, and did he do something now when healed of his lack of rationality, he would in truth earn imprisonment.

There was a knock on his door. He startled, and snapped his head up. He sent probing magic with his wand to learn who was waiting outside and tensed further.

That was right. That was happening today. He had agreed to see Potter.

His soulmate was another person he'd been able to get a new take on. Everything after Sanctuary had been as tainted as what had come before. If in a different way. His perception had been off. The corruption had been in the moment, not part of a post-production. Potter was complicated. Loki had wanted so much, had fought all the conditioning to get it and he'd suffered for it. Everything had turned sour. A lot was left unsaid between them. Clearing the air was the purpose of meeting Potter now.

Loki hesitated. Talking would be difficult, awkward, sure to lead to more hurt. He knew he wasn't ready to talk with Thor. He'd thought he was ready for Potter.

He could change his mind. He didn't have to let Potter inside. Potter would understand. Would understand that he was weak. Pathetic. Wretched. Would give up on him. Would tire. Loki clenched his eyes shut, forced himself to stop the stream harsh words he directed at himself.

He turned his arm, looked at the sleeve where it hid his mark, placed his hand over it, zeroing in on the warmth of it. He drew up the sleeve and looked at the golden lines. Oh, how he wanted, though. He wanted the return of the ease he'd grown to feel in Potter's company before truth had darkened it. He ached with longing for what had been. For what should be.

Again, there was a knock. Loki went to answer it, his legs heavy at first. His steps grew lighter as he approached the door. It pendulated back with his hand growing heavy as he reached out to touch the handle. Then it was easy to open the door. And once more it was difficult. He didn't look at Potter. He turned away and walked to one of the windows, keeping his eyes on the view. The trees were in bloom. People were walking under the heavy boughs, not a care in the world. Free of worry and strife.

"Hi," Potter said.

Loki nodded his reply.

"How are you today?"

Loki snorted an inaudible laugh. So that was how it was going to be. They were going to avoid the matter at hand. Potter might have the right idea of it. He could play along. "I'm well, thank you."

"Good. That's good."

"And you?"

"I'm fine."

"Good."

"Yeah, good." Fabric whispered as Potter sat down, and it continued as he fidgeted.

Loki couldn't take the first step. He stared blankly and listened hard. Potter breathed steadily. The chair creaked under him when he adjusted his position. Wind made the curtains flutter. The healers moved about in the adjacent rooms. The sand in the hourglass he'd turned earlier to not let his memory work continue endlessly continued to trickle to the base.

Potter's breath changed. He was about to speak. Loki clenched his hands around the edge of the windowsill, nails digging into the stone.

"Would you like to go for a walk?"

This time, Loki's snorted laughter wasn't silent. "Weren't you told? I'm still a prisoner." He pushed his hand at the open window, came into contact with the barrier there, illuminating the hidden grid.

"What? No. Why?"

"Why indeed?"

"This isn't right."

"Isn't it? You should be the first to say that it's right, or weren't you the one who delivered me to my cell?"

"Yes, but that was before."

"Before. After. It was me all the same."

"No. It's not the same."

"How do you know? How do you know I wouldn't do the same things again given the chance? They've told you about Thor's failed coronation, have they not? There was no thrall on my mind then. There was only me. The same me."

"You were hurting."

"And does that reason hold up in your courts? Are wizards so quick to forgive attempted genocide on account of personal turmoil? Can a monster change its nature? Can you tame a beast?"

"Why are you doing this?"

The question stabbed through him, poking at the cold spot in his chest. "Perhaps I fooled Granger. Perhaps I merely acted sane. Perhaps all her reports to you are useless. Perhaps I'm mad still."

"Stop it." Potter rose from his seat and walked towards Loki. "Stop pushing me away. I won't let you. You let me in here. I'm not leaving, and I don't believe what you're saying. I don't believe in monsters. There are people and reasons for their actions."

Potter grabbed Loki's hand. The hold was hard, enhanced by potions, impossible for him to be free off without a fight. Potter used the grip to force Loki around, to look him in the eye. He opened up their connection, pushing at Loki with his mind, drawing him back into his own.

"Everyone makes mistakes. Some bigger than others. I've seen beyond yours. And I have evidence that there is more to you than that. More than the hurt and the lashing out. More than nature or nurture. The evidence is branded on my soul. Hurt doesn't hold up in court. You're right about that, but I'm not your judge or jury. I'm your soulmate, and I will never deny that again, never deny you."

The connection between them told Loki of Potter's sincerity. There was no escaping the truth of his words.

"I've missed you. I regret how things have been between us. I'm so sorry about that. Please let me in again. Forgive me for putting the world before you. Forgive me, and I'll never do it again. It'll be you first. Always."

Harry's grip on him slackened. Loki was free to move. He didn't. He stayed where he was, absorbed in the connection, in the skin to skin touch. In the touch of mind to mind. Soul to soul. Knowing Harry's thoughts and feelings, knowing how close a mirror they were to his own was solace. It was absolution. They shared guilt, hurt, fear, and hope.

"All right," Loki said. "All right." He covered Harry's hand with his own. "Let's start over."

* * *

 **End Chapter FOUR**

* * *

 **A/N 7th May 2019**

You think it was End Game that got me to update after nearly a year what with the movies having been catalysts before? Think again. This time the credit goes to Cas_tellations who has written one of my favourite Harry Potter/Loki stories, Collateral Damage. An update and an announcement that the sequel was discontinued made me think that I can't do the same with my story, at least not until I have a sequel started. So here we are :)

Hope you liked the chapter. The more you let me know what you thought, the more motivation and inspiration I get for the next one. Just so you know ;)


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